


a dream, a tender ache (a subtle laughter, a bitter wake)

by misery_fell



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Crying, Dreams, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Men Crying, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Repression, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roadtrips, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Smut, Stargazing, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unus Annus, crankiplier - Freeform, fellas is it gay to dream about kissing a friend, i yi, idiots to lovers, jealous Ethan, mark "i'm not a masochist" fischbach, mark and ethan are big stupid, mark is an idiot pass it on, no beta we die like men, oh the want of these boys- it kills me, okay wow angst, so much fluff guys, someone help them pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misery_fell/pseuds/misery_fell
Summary: Waking up was normally cold- he lived in a big house, and even when friends filled up all of the rooms surrounding him, he was normally alone in his bed. This time, though- the soft sounds of the tv’s music, Ethan’s subtle snores from the side of him- the world didn’t feel so cold. The thought suddenly struck him: He wanted that for the rest of his life.He jolted into awareness as soon as the thought entered his head, taking stock of the situation, trying to play off his own feelings. Ethan’s hand was strewn over the couch to encompass Mark, with his head slumped over in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. Seeing Ethan like this felt incriminating. It felt like he was crossing some sort of unspoken line; like he wasn’t allowed to see this Ethan, but he would be damned if he didn’t soak it in. Because this would make great joke material, that is. Not because he liked seeing how soft the tresses of Ethan’s hair looked, or how kissable those fucking lips were. Sometimes he just felt like something that gorgeous had to be a sin.God, if Ethan was a sin Mark was so ready to go to hell.aka: Mark represses his feelings. It backfires.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 350
Kudos: 570





	1. the beginnings of a fire that has always burned

**Author's Note:**

> heyo world! this is my first fic so pls be gentle i am only babey,,,  
i wanted to write something for them bc their dynamic is so cute so Here I Am i hope u like itttt  
leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed! comments actually make my day no joke here  
alright for context- in this fic him and amy are not dating, but full respect to their relationship bc they are so cute. and also- if you see an error or happen to know i got a certain detail wrong, dont hesitate to let me know, always room for improvement :P

The dreaming started around a month ago. 

In hindsight, Mark should have seen it coming- if you catch feelings for someone you can never actually have, your brain is well likely to find a way to deal with those pent up emotions, and for Mark- well, that was dreaming. This phenomenon was only exacerbated by Mark’s adamant denial of these so-called feelings- he was just becoming a powder keg waiting to explode.

Each one had a similar premise, the same dream-like haze you can only retain while fast asleep. Each one had a single constant, and that was Ethan. In one- him and Ethan, in a world far away from here, cradling each other in a dark room, another- him and Ethan getting ice cream, him and Ethan accidentally kissing, accidentally falling, purposefully loving. His heart panged for the lives he got to live whilst fast asleep, for the aching in his heart. In each one, he would realize, he would whisper: “This isn’t real, is it?”

Each time, the same answer from Ethan: “But it is real enough.”

* * *

He should really turn down his fan, he thinks, for the thousandth time after waking up in a cold and empty bed. It’s on high speed, prepared for a hot Californian winter but instead confronted with relatively chilly temperatures, versus that norm. Mark’s hand sluggishly reaches up to drag the last crests of sleep from his eyes, the other pulling his phone from under his pillow to check the time. 5:42, it reads. To damn early to be any sort of productive but just late enough that he can’t go back to sleep.

“Fuck,” he says, to himself more than anything. The dream he had been having was a nice one- Ethan, here, in his room. Ethan, holding him after a particularly hard day. Ethan. Just that, Ethan. He was enough to make any dream a nice one.

Not that Mark was ready to admit what that might mean because admitting that you might have feelings in a decidedly Not Straight manor for his decidedly In A Relationship Friend was kind of devastating for his overall morale. Every time he woke up from one of _those _dreams Mark simply- how you say- _ repressed _his feelings. Or, more specifically, _ those _feelings. After all, men were awfully good at that, if nothing else.

He didn’t have room for those feelings, with all of the filmings for Unus Annus and his main channel. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily end up teetering on the edge of creative burnout. Feelings just made everything more complicated, right? 

Mark was getting lost in his head again, and so he did what he always did when he was thinking too much. He took a run. Getting ready this early was hell, but he didn’t want to keep on thinking, processing, _ feeling, _so there he was, out the door at a bitter six o’clock and off into the cold morning air. Later in the day he needed to film an Unus Annus video, so Ethan would be headed over at around 4, but until then, he really just needed to edit some videos, maybe work on a new video. For now, it was just him and the road.

Some days, he wished it was only ever this: a glittering sunrise and the pounding heartbeat of his feet upon the concrete. Some days, he wished he could fade into the asphalt road, and never wonder again.

The day passed remarkably quickly considering how slowly his morning felt. Thankfully, after finishing up filming for this Unus Annus video, Mark was done for the day. Who knows, he mused. Maybe he could get something to eat with Ethan, they could watch a movie. His heart shuddered at the thought of being so close to Ethan, but Mark pushed past, ignoring it. No need to rock the boat. Today, he and Ethan had the brilliant idea of trying to summon Bloody Mary- Mark knew Ethan would be scared out of his damn mind and the viewers loved to see Ethan terrified. Honestly, Mark did too. It was funny to see how high pitched his voice would get when he was scared. It definitely wasn’t because of how Ethan would lean in a little closer when he was scared of something, almost using Mark as a shield, like he could save Ethan from the dangers of the world. No. Mark just thought it was astounding how a grown-ass man could still sound like he was in puberty under the right circumstances. 

After getting the cameras all set up and the lighting right, they were ready to start.

“Mark get in here, we do not have all day here! Losing daylight!” Ethan groaned, jokingly dramatic. Mark chuckled at his attempt at a joke- there wasn’t really daylight to lose, considering that this was their only video for today and it didn’t require any sun.

“Alright drama queen, have it your way. Lemme just get the lights anddd-”

“No! That’s fine, take your sWeet time Mark. Do NOT turn off those lights yet I swear to god I’ll hurt you” Just to get a reaction out of him, Mark flickered the lights on and off. The screech Ethan let loose had to be inhumane- and before Mark could even get out a half-assed apology over his cackling laugh, Ethan was shrieking more.

“Mark that wasn’t funny! The cameras aren’t even rolling, we don’t need to summon the fucking death monster thing yet!!” Towards the end, Ethan softened his words, falling back on his puppy dog eyes to get Mark to behave.

He hated that it worked.

“Okay okay, I won’t purposely try to give you a heart attack. Only a mild stroke.”

Ethan, who had almost smiled victoriously at his first words, only pouted when he heard the rest as Mark dissolved into pits of laughter.

“Let’s just get started, cool? I want to get this thing over with, it gives me the fucking heebie-jeebies or whatever the fuck you call it.” Ethan shuddered, and Mark had a sneaking suspicion that Ethan was more scared of this than he was letting on. His heart softened as he considered the younger boy’s frightened demeanor. 

“Awwwww Ethan… are you scared?”

“Fuck no!” Ethan said, slapping him. “Let’s just do this”

_Cute_, his traitorous mind thought at the light sting of Ethan’s hand. Ethan was too damn cute, and it was going to be the death of him.


	2. his sweet embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! expected this to be finished later but i was looking through the comments some of you guys wrote and was honestly so motivated to write, so i had to finish it. thank you so much for the support! enjoy!

Mark honestly didn’t expect the video to turn out as fun as it had. Well, maybe fun wasn’t the right word- Ethan nearly pissed himself in fear, and during their second take filming Mark could have sworn he actually _ saw _ something, but the way Ethan would jump towards him when he thought he saw something and pander at his arm in the dark was fucking _ adorable _ , okay, he couldn’t be blamed for the way his heart seemed to jump. That was normal, logical, expected, even. Ethan was just _ cute, _ especially when he was holding Mark or telling a joke or laughing or _ anything _really, just being Ethan, for fuck’s sake. 

Shit.

Mark might have a little thing for Ethan. He felt like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar- cold, radiating embarrassment in his toes and a quick fear in his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ethan packing up the cameras and extinguishing the candles they had lit- now, all they needed to do was export the footage to Lixian since he would be the one editing this.

“Mark, should I go ahead and send it over?” Ethan said, likely for the second time. He nodded, on autopilot as his brain tried to handle this newfound _ attraction _ . He refused to call it a crush- that would imply it being anything other than a surface level feeling in response to his own loneliness. Because that was all that it was, he just missed being held and loved on and it certainly wasn’t Ethan that he necessarily wanted that from. Ethan reached from behind to grab the mic he had been clenching in his hand, and Mark couldn’t help but be hyperaware of Ethan’s arm snaking up his own. The shudder running through him was involuntary, and holy shit, it had been a long time since anyone made his hairs stand on end. He needed to go on a date, or something of the sort because a touch should _ not _ be enough to rile him up.

This was going to be awkward.

“Mark, you okay? Cold?” he furrowed his eyebrows, obviously confused. Mark tried to school himself before responding to the younger boy, aware that he likely looked as white as a ghost- hands tremoring, nose flared, eyes wild. Ethan’s subtle concern didn’t pass unnoticed to Mark- he felt that care warming his heart. Or maybe it was just the remnants of heat from the candles.

“I- yeah, let’s watch something before you go,” Mark said, recalling how to be normal. Normal, he could do that. Or at least he could pretend until he could sort out whatever the _ hell _this shit was. 

* * *

They were well into _ The Mandalorian _ when Mark had begun to nod off on Ethan’s shoulder. Even though they had started on opposite sides of the couch, somehow, they had gravitated towards each other, like the pull of magnets, the rise of the tide. Slowly, ever so slowly they drifted ever closer, first a subtle shift, then Mark moved to where their knees were nearly touching, and then all of a sudden Mark was yawning and Ethan’s shoulder was so inviting and _ god, he was so tired. _Ethan just let him sink into him, as if that simple domesticity didn’t make Mark’s knees quake, make his earth shake. He fell asleep, softly snoring into Ethan’s shoulder as he dreamt of a sweeter life.

He dreamt of hands- hands, small, delicate, but not fragile. Hands, playing the piano. Hands, interlocking with his. Hands, on his face. It was Ethan’s hands, because how could it not be. The boy had fucking beautiful hands, and that boy was kissing him, holding him, loving him.

They were on the highway, or maybe just a road, or maybe a house but none of it really mattered because damn, they were alive and in love. 

Golden skylines. Endless roads. A road trip that began and ended with them, in love. Soft pastel hazes of color, breathtaking views.

His heart ached for it.

* * *

Waking up was normally cold- he lived in a big house, and even when friends filled up all of the rooms surrounding him, he was normally alone in his bed. This time, though- the soft sounds of the tv’s music, Ethan’s subtle snores from the side of him- the world didn’t feel so cold. The thought suddenly struck him: _ He wanted that for the rest of his life. _

He jolted into awareness as soon as the thought entered his head, taking stock of the situation, trying to play off his own feelings. Ethan’s hand was strewn over the couch to encompass Mark, with his head slumped over in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. Seeing Ethan like this felt incriminating. It felt like he was crossing some sort of unspoken line; like he wasn’t allowed to see this Ethan, but he would be damned if he didn’t soak it in. Because this would make great joke material, that is. Not because he liked seeing how soft the tresses of Ethan’s hair looked, or how kissable those fucking lips were. Sometimes he just felt like something _ that _ gorgeous had to be a sin. 

God, if Ethan was a sin Mark was so ready to go to hell.

The only light in the room was the soft moon and the blue-violet tv screen. Mark could tell it was late- if his blind eyes were to be trusted without his glasses, he could almost make out a 1:30 on the microwave. Damn, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Internally, he wrestled with his options: waking Ethan up and face his wrath, or somehow move him in his sleep so he wouldn’t end up with a crick in his neck. Almost in response, Ethan gave a little snore. 

“Okay, bluejay,” He sighed. “Let’s get you in a real bed.”

Carefully, he unwound himself from the younger man, trying not to move to fast. He huffed with the effort it takes to hoist up Ethan- you wouldn’t expect a stick like him to pack so many muscles, but here they were. Maybe Mark just wasn’t working out enough. The effort it was taking to get Ethan up the stairs was definitely pointing out to the latter. 

Anyone who might have witnessed the scene would have pointed out how terribly domestic it all was- but, right now, only Mark was awake. And Mark didn’t _ do _‘domestic’.

When Mark had finally reached an actual bed, he was careful to set Ethan down gently. Ethan, in his sleep fueled haze, muttered something about oranges and wrapped his arms around Mark’s neck. It felt like a plea just begging him not to leave, and so Mark did what any Sane and Totally Straight Person would do. He stayed.

* * *

Waking up at Ethan’s side for the second time in one day was disorienting, to say the least. Mark was first insanely confused at the man currently wrapped around him like a koala, but he quickly remembered his harrowing trek up the stairs in order to keep Ethan from getting a crick in his neck.

“Ethan,” he tested; voice croaking. He tore the dried piece of hair from the corner of his mouth and went for it again, this time stronger. ”Ethan?”

“Mphh… wha-” Ethan sleepily opened his eyes, smacking his lips. At first, Mark almost thought he saw what was maybe contentedness on Ethan’s face before he slipped into a bleary surprise.

“Time is it?” He asked, and then added, almost as an afterthought. “Why are we in a bed?”

The poor kid sounded fucking exhausted. He had likely been overworking himself to come up with new content ever since he hit one million.

“We both fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at like 2 AM and decided to move you upstairs because you looked uncomfortable,” He turned to his right and squinted at the alarm clock lying on the bedside table. It seemed, in his sleepy haze, he had brought Ethan into his room, which explained the alarm clock. “It’s like,,,, 9:20”

“Oh,” he said, seemingly satisfied with his answer, before promptly closing his eyes and curling into Mark. Blood rushed to Mark’s cheeks. He was_ cuddling _Ethan. Or, more accurately, Ethan was cuddling him, but he was a willing participant. That physical proximity did wonders to his blood pressure, questions flying by in his head nearly as fast as his pulse.

_ Did Ethan honestly not think to ask why Mark was in the bed with him? Did he just not care? Why was he acting like waking up next to Mark was the most natural thing in the world? Most importantly, why was there fucking butterflies in his stomach from a simple touch from Ethan? _

“Ethan- your-” he tried to maneuver his way out of Ethan’s hold so as not to further embarrass himself, but his arm was trapped. “You have my arm, could you?”

Sleepy Ethan did not get the memo.

Sleepy Ethan entirely missed the memo, he decided, as Ethan seemingly just rolled closer.

“Goddamnit. You aren’t getting up, are you,”

No response.

It was a damn good thing he didn’t have anything to do today, he mused, scrolling through his phone and looking at the response to the more recent Unus Annus videos. A damn good thing.


	3. a kiss, a life that will be missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> choo fuckinG CHOO BITch!  
sorry for the lack of ethan in this chap, but i promise the next chapter will make up for it. then again, this story has a long way to go.  
okay okay though on a lighter note thank you guys for all the support so far, it means alot. This next chapter was real hard to start, but after it got rolling i found it hard to stop skdkddkkms  
also! please keep leaving comments as it motivates me to get these chapters out to you faster :3  
enjoy!

This twink was ruining his life, he decided. 

They were currently at a little tiny diner on the outskirts of LA, and Ethan was sat across from him in the dimly lit booth. The light from above him cascaded across the soft planes of Ethan’s face, casting him in radiance. Mark was astounded as to how one person could look That Nice. It had to be illegal, right? Someone so gorgeous had to be criminal. 

He hated the way his heart soared when Ethan laughed, only pausing his intense ramblings to take a massive sip from his chocolate shake. Mark couldn’t have helped the way he smiled fondly- Ethan was the kind of guy you had to fight not to fall for, and Mark wasn’t sure that he was winning. Mark wasn’t even sure if he _ wanted _ to win if that meant he didn’t get to appreciate moments like this.

“So what do you think of that?” Ethan asked, cocking his head in question. Mark’s eyes darted away, startled out of his stupor.

“Uh... “ He stammered. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.” Mark had no idea what he was agreeing to, but he generally figured that it couldn’t be all that bad. It was only Ethan.

“Do you even know what I said?”

Mark only hung his head, not even bothering to defend his case. He would only make it worse.

“I was saying that we should cover a song for Unus Annus. Might not be our usual content, but I think people would like it.” Ethan didn’t seem too bothered by his inattention, but Mark knew he needed to get his shit together. He needed to figure out why he was having this kind of feelings, for a man, and more specifically, for Ethan.

“Yeah. I like that idea. We could film tomorrow?”

Ethan nodded, looking thoughtful as he sipped up the last bits of the milkshake. Mark smiled. Jeez, Ethan was cute. So damn cute.

Yeah. Mark needed to sort this out, and he could only think of one way to do so.

* * *

His hands were sweating profusely as he hovered outside the door. Yesterday, he had begun messaging with a guy he found on Hinge- the dude seemed pretty all right, and he happened to know that he was one of Amy’s close friends, which meant he could be promised secrecy. Now, he was at his apartment, at midday.

Mark needed to _ know _. 

Shaking off his anxiety, he knocked on the door. 

“Hello?” A green eye appeared from behind the deadbolt, hovering in the crack of the door. Wow. The guy- from what he could see- was pretty. Not Ethan pretty, but pretty, nonetheless. 

“Uh- It’s Mark?” Mark fought the nerve to run away, hand rolling in some weak attempt to destress. It was just a guy. Nothing more, nothing less. The door slammed shut, and for a moment, Mark assumed the worst. What the _ hell _ was he thinking, going on a _ date _ with a man when he didn’t even know if he _ liked _ dudes. Objectively, he admired their physique- but being with a dude the way he had been with a woman- it scared him. Maybe a little fear was healthy, though.

The door opened, and Mark decided now would be a good time to stop thinking. He glanced up at the man, taking him in.

Oh, yeah. Thinking was out the window now. The man in front of him was sculpted like Adonis. Chiseled jawbone, tousled brown hair that was somehow sophisticated, tight-fitting black shirt, a healthy stubble. He felt like he had walked into some shitty porno intro- him, the questioning straight boy and this man- Jay if he remembered correctly- ready to eat him alive. His mouth watered at the sheer aesthetic of this mountain of a man.

Maybe Mark liked dudes.

“Come on in,” Jay said, shifting to the side to let him pass through. His voice had a slight British accent, and hot damn he pulled it off. Objectively, this man was prettier than Ethan. Mark wasn’t so sure that his brain was so objective, though.

* * *

After making his way into the main living area, he turned to Jay, unsure of how this would work. They had decided against going out because Mark didn’t want to take the chance that someone would see, but now Mark questioned if that was the right choice. He didn’t have any barriers here- it was just him and this random dude. Jay started moving towards what Mark assumed to be the living room.

“Here, I figured we could watch a movie? If that’s cool with you, that is.” 

“Yeah,” he blushed, embarrassed at his own inexperience. Where the hell was the smooth Mark that had gotten him dates his whole adult life? “So, what are we watching?”

“I thought maybe we could just turn something on. I figure we might have some more interesting topics to keep us occupied.” Both Jay and he were now sitting side by side in the middle of the couch. Mark’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. What the fuck was happening to him right now? And why was he sweating so damn much?

Be smooth, he thought. Smooth as butter.

“You know, your profile picture really doesn’t do you justice.” It was true, but Mark couldn’t help but feel like it was forced. His hands were fidgeting like mad and his nerves felt like they were jacked up on meth. Still, he allowed himself to move a little closer to him, knees brushing. Jay was facing him now, hands reaching behind him. Mark must have let his confusion show at the sudden movement because Jay began to laugh.

“Sorry, I was getting the remote,” he smiled, raising up the stick in some kind of plea of defense. “But- neither does yours.” He punctuated this with a lingering gaze up and down his body. Every cell inside him felt exposed.

After getting over the initial discomfort of the situation, Mark discovered that Jay wasn’t actually all that bad. As some shitty show played in the background, he found himself actually laughing at some of the stories he had to tell. It felt- it felt light and fun, and maybe- maybe it was what he needed. An hour slipped by, and then two, and suddenly his phone was ringing and the joy bubbled back down. Ethan was calling.

Every ember in his stomach was doused.

“Sorry- uh- I’ll be right back, I need to get this.” Jay nodded in understanding, but Mark was already into the kitchen, stepping away from that small couch.

“Ethan? What’s up?”

“Mark where the fuck are you? You said you would be here? I’m freezing my dick off, what the hell?” Ethan said, sounding angry.

“Oh, fuck,” 

He really fucked that up. “I’ll be there in like 30 minutes- just go ahead and let yourself in, there’s a key under the back doormat. I’m really sorry, I just caught up somewhere. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t remember, I’m such an ass, holy shit, I’m sorry I completely missed your texts.”

“Whatever, Mark. Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

He hung up, and Mark felt like crying. The last thing he wanted was for Ethan to think he was an inconvenience. Hastily, he composed himself, stepping in to tell Jay he had to leave. Before he could even get into the living room, he was stopped by Jay. Just from looking up, he could tell he had heard most of that.

“You have to go, don’t you,” he smiled, eyes bittersweet. 

“I- yeah, I’m really sorry. I forgot I had made plans with someone, and now he's kinda pissed at me. I have to get home.” He rubbed his neck apologetically, looking into the man’s piercing green eyes. Jay chuckled.

“I hope he’s worth it.” It was funny, Mark thought, that just from witnessing that one conversation, Jay knew they wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

“I promise, it really isn’t like that. I just- I had a really nice time today.” He felt so guilty; like somehow, he had cheated himself. Jay just gave him a disparaging look.

“Even if you don’t realize it yet, I know that face.” Jay left the rest of his words weighing heavily in the air- Mark struggled to carry their weight.

“Really, it isn’t.” He barely noticed himself as he inched closer, leaning in. Their breath lingered in the space between them, warm and promising. When their lips touched, it didn’t feel like much. Maybe just the promise of something that could have been. Even so, Mark let his eyes melt close as he sunk into Jay’s soft lips. For a moment, he let himself consider kissing Ethan in a waking moment. He let himself imagine that this was Ethan’s hair he was tangling his hands in, Ethan’s lips he was getting lost in. He fisted his fingers tighter in the taller man's hair, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, all he could feel was the soft stubble on Jay's face- not bad, but acting as a glaring reminder: this wasn't Ethan. His cells screamed in protest.

When he broke it off, Jay just looked at him sadly. It was almost like his eyes were telling him: _ you may have been kissing me, but you were imagining someone else. _He walked him to the door before pausing to say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Mark. It was nice getting to know you. If you ever stop loving him, call me.”

He opened his mouth, to argue, to dispute that, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Fuck. It wasn't like he had to prove himself to this man he barely knew, right? Still, his brain begged him to respond, even as his heart acknowledged a silent defeat.

“Maybe another time?”

Jay just shook his head, and Mark dejectedly walked out. When he was in the safety of his car, he let his hands ghost over his lips, the memory still fresh, a soft powdered snow.

“Damnnit,” he muttered, hitting the steering wheel. The only thing he had succeeded in doing was confusing himself more.


	4. just say you won't let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe have fun with this one buckos

Walking up to his door had never been so nerve-wracking. Even though he had opened this very door what must have been a thousand other times, his hands still shook as he placed in the key. Mark cursed quietly as he fumbled around. 

After successfully opening the door, he entered into a surprisingly quiet house. He had assumed that Ethan would have at least turned on some show in order to pass the time before Mark made it back, but the only sound was the soft creaking of the front door opening. Maybe Ethan had just left- decided that they might as well just do it another day. He desperately hoped not, because Mark wanted to apologize to Ethan today. Slowly stepping into the living room, he spotted a sleeping form on the couch.

“Oh, babe,” The nickname slipped from Mark’s lips unbidden, almost just a natural extension. He made his way over to the couch, sitting by Ethan’s curled up form. Reaching a hand up to run through Ethan’s hair, he couldn’t help but think how gorgeous this boy was. And he got to see this Ethan. Through his love-stricken thoughts, he failed to notice that the younger boy’s breath had quickened ever so slightly, signaling that he had heard the accidental nickname.

Regretfully, he pulled his hand away. “Ethan? Can you get up for me?”

Opening one eye, Ethan groaned at the harsh light. Mark had turned in the light as he had walked in, disrupting the previously dim room. Ethan sat up, forcing Mark to shift away.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass to you earlier. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Ethan looked genuinely apologetic, and Mark’s heart was having some trouble handling how cute that was.

“To be honest, I should be the one apologizing. I should have remembered this, it’s my bad, really. You have no need to say sorry.”

The words felt too earnest, vulnerable, but he had already spoken them. For Mark, vulnerable was scary. For Mark, vulnerable meant trusting himself, not just Ethan. Thankfully, though, Ethan seemed to take it well. They were okay.

They were okay.

The only feeling in his head was one so very untraceable- he wasn’t sure if it came from his brain or his heart or somewhere in his spine, but all there was- Ethan’s eyes on his, moments of silence.

Every color around him was fading to black. Mark couldn’t tell who moved first but then Ethan was folding into Mark, burying his head into Mark’s shoulder, whispering a muffled “sorry” as he squeezed tight. It felt- it felt like a home within a hug. There was nothing but this, the smell of Ethan’s hair, Ethan’s hands on his back, Ethan’s breath shuddering. There was only Ethan.

Straight people did this, right?

Ethan pulled back, and Mark internally sighed at the lack of contact. “So where were you anyways that you weren’t on your phone?”

Shit. Fuck. Mark forgot about that. Did he tell Ethan that he went on a date, or did he lie and avoid having to share any details? Fuck, he was already taking too long to decide, he just needed to _ say _something. Anything at all, just some sort of reason as to why he wasn’t home.

“I- uh- I was just.” Fuck, Mark was blushing like a fucking tomato. How would Ethan even react? Hell, he hadn’t told anyone about the Ethan debacle. He hadn’t even told anyone that he thought he might not be straight, should he really be saying this to Ethan first? “I was on a date, okay?” His voice sounded gruff, even to him. Looking up, he watched Ethan’s face cloud with something he couldn’t recognize. When he started to speak, Ethan’s voice was strangled, tense.

“Oh? Really?” Ethan looked like he was barely breathing. Could he be- jealous? Mark doubted it. If anything, he was just upset Mark didn’t tell him. “Who?” Ethan had moved away, fists clenched.

“No one. It doesn’t- It doesn’t matter. I won’t be seeing him again.” Oh fuck, did Mark really just say that? Dread flooded his body. This is not how he ever thought his coming out would look like. Hell, Mark didn’t even know if there _ would _ be a coming out. He was so confused.

Ethan’s eyebrows raised impossibly higher. “Him? You said- him- as in, like, a dude. That’s- wow, that’s so cool.” A thought crossed his mind, flittering in for less than a second before Mark dismissed it: was Ethan _ homophobic? _ Suddenly, Mark felt defensive.

“Is that a problem?”

“NO, oh my god, no. I guess I was just- surprised. That’s all. Was he- was he pretty?” The air was still tense. It felt like all it would take was a single match to set them both alight.

“Well, uhm- yeah, he looked nice.” _ Not as pretty as Ethan, _his mind yelled. That was one thought that didn’t need to be voiced aloud. “He wasn’t really my type, I think. I don’t know.” Yeah, no shit Jay “wasn’t his type” His type was little twinks with no sense of personal boundaries, aka, Ethan. 

“Cool. Cool cool cool, that’s super cool. Let’s just- start the video?”

Mark sighed in relief. That conversation couldn’t have been over any sooner.

* * *

Later, after finishing up some practice for the video, they were about ready to begin. Thankfully, the lingering awkwardness had begun to dissipate from their previous conversation, and they were back to making dumb jokes while laughing their asses off. God, Mark loved doing this with Ethan. He wouldn’t trade these moments for the entire fucking world.

Cameras were in place- all they had to do now was just _ start. _Anxiety hit him like a train as he cleared his throat. After some preliminary introduction business, Ethan opened his mouth to preface the video, but Mark cut him off.

“So, guys, to clear up some confusion, we wanted to preface this video by saying that we know that this isn’t our usual video.” Turning to Ethan, he let him finish the point he was making.

“But, as much as this channel is about doing what we want to do, it is also about what you guys want. And a _ surprisingly _ large amount of you all have requested this.” 

“So, without further ado, here is a song many of you might recognize.”

Taking his guitar in both hands, he tested out the strings to see if they were in tune, messing around until they were accurate. It felt like the world- felt like Ethan was watching him with bated breath. The attention was goddamn electric. 

They began to sing. Mark’s heart was beating wildly in his throat as his and Ethan’s voice intertwined like lovers in a rich cacophony of sound. He wanted to see Ethan, he thought, moving through the notes absentmindedly. 

Mark looked up.

_ “ _ _ I knew I loved you then” _

Their eyes met.

_ “But you'd never know” _

All Mark could think of was Ethan, only Ethan, of him and of love, of leaning in and forgetting his place.

_ “Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go” _

Fuck.

_ “I know I needed you” _

Oh, holy shit.

_ “But I never showed” _

He- he _ wanted _ Ethan.

_ “But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old” _

He wanted a _ life _ with Ethan, dogs and kids and Sunday morning pancakes. 

_ “Just say you won't let go” _

He was- He _ loved _ Ethan. He was _ in love _ with Ethan.

_ “Just say you won't let go” _

Jay had been right, he realized. 

Oh, God. Mark was fucked.

  
  



	5. a yawning abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got so angstY woOh i am So Sorry for that,,, yikEs!!  
if you have ever been in this situation where you and someone you love arent really talking and you know its your fault, then you will probably relate to this chapter. hell, i nearly cried writing it. but it is necessary for these boys to be idiots so that one day we will reach the lovers.  
as always, thank you for the support, i hope you enjoyed.

Mark ran through the rest of the song on pure autopilot. He couldn’t even stand to look at Ethan- he was_ ashamed _. No rhyme or reason as to why, but he was. It felt like loving Ethan was the worst mistake of his life. Mark- in his whole life- had rarely felt so scared. The pain of possibly losing Ethan because of some stupid hormones was incomputable.

When they finished the song, Mark just walked away. He couldn’t- he didn’t have the brainpower to understand what to do next. Everything was thousands of miles away- Ethan’s voice ringing in his ear, his own footsteps too loud and yet far too gentle. The door handle to his room- blurry, unfocused. He was so tired. So very tired. Distantly, he registered Ethan walking after him. But now there was an entire wall between them, and he was sinking, falling to the ground and staring forward in silence.

He already knew they wouldn’t be posting that video. Not just because it was unfinished- but because of how obvious he had been. He was okay with being vulnerable- but only after a certain point, only when the wound had at least half-healed. This wound- this one was still fresh, sore from it’s hurt.

A rapping on his door indicated Ethan’s presence.

“Mark? What the hell is up with you? You’ve been acting weird for the past month now, and now you’re walking out in the middle of filming? What- what do you _ need _ , I’m sorry if I screwed up somehow.” Ethan’s voice shook, and a cold feeling overtook Mark’s chest. The words pierced through Mark’s veil of silence, like shards of glass. He felt fury began to bubble, rising and building until he felt like it was the only thing he could feel, like that line between anger and emptiness was so thin that Mark didn’t even need to step. This was _ Ethan’s _ fault for making Mark fall for him. _ Ethan’s _ fault for making him question everything he once knew. _ Ethan’s _ fault, for the way he would giggle, the way his eyes lit up when he was talking about something he loved, for the little noises he would make to fill the silence that was so uniquely _ him. _

Logically, his brain knew this was a disproportionate reaction and that the only person he was really angry at was himself- but it was so much easier to deflect your broken pieces than to learn how to put them back together.

“Just” He breathed out, trying desperately not to escalate the situation. “Jesus Christ, Ethan, don’t you know when to leave well enough alone? I’m fucking _ fine _ , it’s _ you _ that’s my problem. This is _ your _ fucking fault, Ethan.”

Well. That definitely didn’t qualify as a de-escalation. Fuck. The venom of his words began to rot away in his teeth, twisting and turning into a pang of awful guilt. He pressed his ear to the side of the door, trying to listen for Ethan. Nothing but silence rung out for several seconds after he spoke, and then: a broken sob, followed by a weak apology and Ethan clattering out of the house.

The front door slammed in the distance, but Mark was frozen in time. An open expanse of sadness yawned below him. 

Mark was diving headfirst in.

* * *

Mark had another 3 days he could go without seeing Ethan before they ran out of Unus Annus videos. Another three days to figure out what the hell to say to Ethan, how the hell he was supposed to _ apologize. _ In the past few days, Mark had only gotten up from his bed a select few times: to go to the restroom and to grab a granola bar, before he retreated back to his room. His life was so devoid of light, after his and Ethan’s argument. The hunger, the thirst, his exhaustion just didn’t _ feel _ real. Everything lacked its usual hue- the thought that he had hurt Ethan like he did set a lethal cloud over the colors of the day. This morning, he had texted Amy to get him some eye drops from the store- his eyes were absolutely bloodshot from crying so damn much. Mark had asked her to just leave it on the kitchen counter- he was sure Amy had already heard the story from Ethan, and he didn’t want to face that. Her disappointment- he couldn’t face that.

From someplace burrowed under the covers, he felt his phone buzz violently several times. Amy’s ringtone, likely telling him that she was here with the eye drops. He ignored it, instead curling back into a pillow. Mark found it impossible to believe that just a few nights ago, Ethan had been in this bed. In his arms. Close enough to reach out, to touch, to kiss and caress and-

The door creaked open, flooding light into the curtained space. Mark hissed at the bright intrusion, looking up at Amy’s silhouette. He couldn’t imagine how he may look to her- puffy eyes and greasy hair, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Oh, _ Mark _.” She walked up, the bed creaking as it distributed her weight. “What happened?” His lip started quivering, and he let out a dry sob.

“I- I think he hates me, Amy.” His voice was hoarse from days of silence. Mark turned away, tears slipping down his cheeks. Amy looked at him with a pitying gaze.

“Oh, hon. He could never hate you. He’s just- he’s upset, that’s all.” She rubbed a comforting hand through his greasy hair, and he shook even more. The simple gesture sent him spiraling into more tears, like the floodgates had burst. God, he had fucked up so damn bad. 

The previous quiet shoulder shaking turned into loud, hiccuping sobs as he tried to stop crying. “I-” Another sob. “I lo-” 

“I _ love _ him, Amy.”

“I know you do,” she whispered. “Just- get some rest, okay? It’s gonna be okay.”

Maybe it would be, one day- but as of right now, that was so very far away.

* * *

When he awoke again, Amy was gone. Left behind was a cup of water and a note saying that he needed to shower. Duly, he noticed that the sun was just now peaking in through the opened curtains- Amy must have done opened them to let some light in. That likely meant that he had slept long beyond what he intended to if the sunrise was any indication.

Heeding Amy’s note, Mark went to go turn on the water for the shower when he realized how hungry he was. He decided he would just go and throw together a quick bowl of cereal, to satiate his growling hunger. 

Leaving his room was a breath of fresh air, quite literally. He hadn’t realized how stuffy and gross his room had grown until he could see the bigger picture, breath cleaner air. He breathed deep, noting that his sinuses were cleared from all of the crying he had done yesterday.

He still didn’t feel great, but it was better, somehow. Less fresh. 

Looking down, he noticed he had finished his cereal. Weird, how time went like that. As he went to go wash up his bowl, Mark ran headfirst into a solid chest. The bowl went crashing to the ground, his mouth wide in shock.

“Ethan?” 

Were his eyes deceiving him?

Etha looked awful- his face was a ruddy red and his lips seeming to have been picked at in anxiety. On his body was an oversized Cloak hoodie- it hung off of him in ways that spoke volumes to his current state.

He looked like a wreck, and Mark had caused that.

He had made this beautiful man sad, sadder than he had ever seen him. 

Mark’s heart shattered as the younger man spoke, two simple words.

“Hey, Mark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am,, so sorry,, for the cliffhanger,,, wasn't intenioNal i sweAr sfsfnsdnfkd  
secondly! thank you for everyone who left kudos on this and got it to 69 for a while, it was gorgeous.  
hehe 69


	6. we play a game of pretend, why won't the games just end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright guys this chapter is a little shorter than some previous ones because i had less time to work on this than i wanted to, but i quite like the way in turned out, and i hope you do to! sorry for that cliffhanger last chapter, hopefully the rest of this fic will more than make up for it. for now, please enjoy mark and ethan's continued idiocy on their journey from idiots to lovers,  
as always, leave kudos and comments if you liked! special thanks to moonjava and animal_lover76 for leaving such nice comments on the last chapter! y'all made my day

The minutes swirled in Mark’s head as he questioned what to say. They were teetering on the edge of an abyss of his own making, and Mark was nearly falling. He just didn’t want to take Ethan down with him.

“You’re shaking.” His voice was soft, holding them in place. Duly, Mark noted the copper taste in his mouth from accidentally biting his tongue. Ethan’s hand reached forward to stabilize him before falling short between them, and he settled on a sad smile.

Despite the small icebreaker, they were still standing on the precipice. Everything was tense- both of them, unable to look away, uncomfortably set within their own personal space. He had to _ say _something. He had to, now, before the moment passed.

God, why couldn’t he just _ speak _? Mark was trying so hard to work up the courage to respond, opening and closing his mouth and stuttering out pieces of words.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Ethan.”

The relief that followed his words was quickly changed into a bone aching sadness, he realized, as he began to cry. He could hear himself hyperventilate as the tears moved down their well-traveled paths Mark didn’t want to look up at Ethan- he felt see-through, fragile in a way he never had before. He was supposed to be the strong one- the one who never wavered, never faltered. It wasn’t even the crying that bothered him- it was the fact that Ethan was the one who had to deal with it. 

Warmth enveloped him, and a smell that was so specifically Ethan. He could almost reach out a touch the comfort Ethan brought, and for a moment he could imagine: this was just a lover’s quarrel, just a bump in a very long road. He could almost hear Ethan whispering in his ear, “I love you”

Even though Mark knew Ethan would never feel like that for him, he let himself cry into Ethan’s shoulder, pretend they were more than they were. In that moment, he decided- for Ethan, he let himself be weak.

* * *

It had been a few days since his and Ethan’s reunion, and since then, the air had shifted. While it was true that they had talked it over, with Mark sharing as much of the truth as he was able to without ruining what had begun to heal, everything was still off. Even the viewers had begun to notice- simple comments saying “I wonder if they are okay? Mark looks really sad all the time.” And they weren’t wrong- more of the video was bits and stilted jokes, no longer the same level of free joy it had been before. Ethan didn’t reach out and playfully touch his arm or tap his shoulder like he once had. Mark hadn’t even realized how much he missed those simple touches, how much he wanted Ethan, all the time. This was especially true today, he thought, staring at Ethan's collared shirt and perfectly tousled hair. Ethan's current look, along with the faint aroma of coffee beans, was a mouthwatering combination. Combined with a killer pair of skinny jeans, Ethan looked positively delectable.

Today, Ethan, Amy, Mika, and Mark were out for coffee. While it was nice to spend time with friends, he felt the jealousy snake in his bones whenever he saw Ethan laughing at one of Mika’s joke. And then following- a sadness when Ethan looked at him and just stopped. Amy kept on sending him concerned looks, but he smiled and shook her off. In reality, he knew he was bringing a cloudy air to any room he dared enter.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom before they bring the food, alright?” Ethan said, mostly to Mika and Amy since Mark sat in silence. As soon as he walked away, Amy and Mika stared at him, obviously ready to lecture him on his silence.

“Mark,” Mika started, pulling his hands into hers. “I know you are dealing with alot-” she cast a knowing glance at Amy- "but just know, not everything is as it seems. Okay?” She smiled briskly, letting Amy begin speaking.

“You and Ethan have got to sort yourselves out, Mark. You have got to get your shit together, I know you aren’t completely blind.” Wow. Well, Amy had never been one to put it bluntly. She was right, though. They all knew Ethan would never like him back- hell, his very girlfriend seemed to know. It was time Mark just dealt with his feelings so he could get over Ethan, and stop being so _ weird _around him. Before he could even say that he understood, the very object of his affections returned, running his hands through his hair. He looked- he looked gorgeous, his mind supplied. Mark let himself stare, if only for a minute.

He completely missed, in his lovesick daze, the girls holding hands, above the table- smiling at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote- i'm v tired today so do let me know about any errors, i can't be bothered to continue editing.


	7. stargazing, the world hazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that feel when a fucking animal is your cockblock- also, this is in Ethan's pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :333 i accidentally wrote another chapter bc jeez i've been having so much FUN with this!!! now i do have to go and buckle down on some studying but i hope this fluff makes up for a little bit of the angst heh\\\  
as always, leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this chapter! enjoy!

Ethan wasn’t quite sure when he fell in love with Mark, but at some time along the way, it certainly happened. 

Maybe it was when Mark had smiled at him for the first time in a way he never had for the cameras. Maybe it was when they had to share a bunk on tour, and he had learned that Mark snored in his sleep. Maybe it was none of those- maybe it was the little moments, Mark’s booming laugh, his tender gaze. Maybe it didn’t matter when he fell- just that he was. 

Whatever it was, Ethan had come to terms with it. 

Or at least, he had. Then Mark started acting like some bug crawled up his damn ass. It hurt, seeing Mark act like that. It fucking hurt. But he was trying to keep calm, not show how he felt when Mark said that it was  _ his _ fault.

Ethan wasn’t dwelling on the past, though.

Definitely not when he had said man laughing in front of him, booming and boisterous. Nothing really mattered when Mark was laughing, lest of all past arguments. To his side, Mika was sharing a knowing look with Amy, as Mark reached out towards his face. His hand burned into his face, thumb swiping over Ethan’s nose. “Here. You had some whipped cream.”

His face positively burned as Mark licked the whipped cream from his finger.  _ Oh _ , holy  _ shit _ , that was uncomfortably attractive. Mika snorted at his red face, and he swatted at her. Mika was the first person he told after he had realized his feelings for Mark- and she had milked those jokes for all they were worth. 

All embarrassment aside, Ethan was lucky to have her as a best friend. And he was so fortunate to be able to hold such love in his heart for someone- so lucky to be able to say he knew Mark well enough to fall for him, unconditionally. He had the sudden urge to ask something he had wanted to for years.

“Mark, we should go on a road trip,” he said. All conversation stopped. Mark looked at him questionably, eyes wide.

“What?”

“I- well I was just thinking- we both have some content saved up, and it would be good, to get fresh air, it’s nothing, I mean, just- ignore me’”

Hearing his stuttering, Amy and Mika went back to their conversation, obviously done with his bullshit. Mark smiled haltingly, blushing as he tried to speak. Seeing Mika and Amy's laughter, though seemed to put a glare in his eyes, and a determined smile.

“I wasn’t sure we were at this level,” Mark said, eyebrows waggling. There was that Mark edition confidence, that sensual allure. It was the most Mark he had been in days, and Ethan was glad to see it.

* * *

The day had finally come- after a few weeks of planning, some pre-filming, and packing, they were ready for a 5-day road trip. The sky was an azure blue, and the air carried a cool breeze. Mark was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off his toned arms. It was a good choice- the sun put a bronzy glow on his skin. Ethan was so in love with this man that it  _ ached. _

After merging onto the highway, they began to head north, tunes playing loud, smiles wide. The highway seemed to stretch for miles- nothing but an open expanse of road and a glittering sky. It was so perfect- so unbelievably joyful, Ethan pinched himself to see if it was real. He wanted this- Mark, behind the steering wheel, a big hand lazily guiding them, and him, in the passenger seat. 

“I love you,” he said, without even really meaning to. A moment’s hesitation from Mark, anxiety filtering in.

“Aw, man. The sky’s got you all sappy. I love you, too, you big goof.” This was followed by an open toothed grin, and Ethan’s heart sunk softly. He accepted long ago- Mark would never feel like he did. But it was so lovely to imagine that.

Little did he know, next to him, the older man was thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

As the sun had set in the sky, their conversation, too, faded to pieces. It was subtle- the changing of colors, the onsetting of silence, but not menacing. Soon, the stars had taken their place on the center stage of their view, and Mark pulled off in an empty field, suggesting that they stargaze.

The only logical answer available was to say yes, he reasoned as they laid a blanket on the hood of Mark’s car. It was only rational, he thought, as Mark explained constellations.

“- and that one, over there- that’s Orion, you see his belt?” Ethan just stared in wonder at Mark, oblivious to all the stars above because he was fairly sure there were enough constellations in Mark’s eyes. “Ethan? Are you even listening?” Mark turned towards him, head tilting until they were practically touching noses. It was electric, to be this close. Every hair on his body was at an end, all of the restlessness his body usually carried faded away. Ethan saw a glimmer of something he had never seen before in Mark’s eyes, and hope rocketed through his veins. He just wanted to pause time, ignore the rest of the world, stare into those gorgeous pools of chocolate until the world was nothing but a footnote.

Mark’s face seemed to be growing closer, and he couldn’t tell if it was him moving in or if it was Mark, it just seemed magnetic, almost. Ethan’s eyes were closing and Mark’s hand was holding his face, caressing him.  _ God _ , Ethan was burning alive from the intensity of it all; he knew what happened next, that one of them would move a hairsbreadth closer and-

A noise slithering through the plains sent them careening apart, Ethan nearly slipping off the hood of the car. 

They were back on the road in ten minutes, a pregnant silence filling the car.


	8. if we only ever have this one night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i,,, i just wrote that. 2k words of smut. i just- iTs necessary okAy,,, for the way i'm goin with the story.  
... as always, if you liked, please leave kudos or comments. it means the world to me. special thanks to my dear friend who convinced me to post this.  
enjoy!

Sometime within the night, the sky had opened up, drumming onto the car in soft beats. The highway pulled softly ahead in ever stretching miles of asphalt. Ethan was fast asleep at his side, neck bent to lay against the seat rest. To the right, an exit sign, showing a likely shitty-motel. Mark considered their options for a few moments before changing lanes, Ethan snoring softly in a way that could only be described as adorable. As much as he loathed to stop in the middle of nowhere, he knew they needed some rest before continuing to San Francisco tomorrow. 

Just from pulling into the almost abandoned parking lot, he could see how decrepit it was. The sign; lit up in a neon red was blinked out, only saying “O en 4/7” instead of “Open 24/7. Regardless, it seemed warm enough, and so he shook away Ethan and they collected their belongings, walking into the small space. When they opened the door to the lobby, a bell chimed, signaling their arrival. 

“Hello! What brings you here?” Mark looked at Ethan, shrugging before responding.

“Just need a room, really,” He said, falling into the comfort of the old lady’s warm voice. She seemed like the kind of Grandmother to spoil you rotten even when your parents were screaming to your face. Mark appreciated it, that shining warmth.

“Oh, of course,” she crooned, gesturing for them to move closer. “I only have one vacancy, but I don’t think you two would mind it.”

She winked like they were all in on some joke, and Mark laughed awkwardly, nodding. Ethan balked as Mark moved forward his debit card, seemingly upset that he paid.

“Don’t worry about it, blue jay.” Mark smiled lovingly at Ethan, finding it endearing how he blushed at the nickname.  _ Cute.  _ Ethan, who began walking the wrong way, only blushed more when Mark pulled him along, touching the small of Ethan’s back. Huh. That was certainly the kind of thing Mark loved to test the limits of.

“You two lovebirds have fun, then,” the lady said, and Mark felt the heat rise up his back as he thought of the implications. It only burned hotter when he opened the door to their room: a tiny, 10 by 10 box with a single full bed, and nothing else.

Well, shit. This was going to be a long-ass night.

* * *

Normally, Mark’s dreams were fairly tame. He had never been one for nightmares, and he hadn’t had a wet dream since his teen years.

Well, that was until Ethan. 

Now, it was an anomaly that he wouldn’t wake up with Ethan’s name on his lips, his body burning in arousal. It would hit him at all the wrong times, that burning feeling in his chest, flooding lower and lower until Mark could barely think. When they were filming something, and Ethan touched him in places he was a little too sensitive. When Ethan would tear his shirt off, and Mark’s eyes couldn’t help but look. Logically, Mark knew as to why- he hadn’t gotten any kind of action for at least 6 months, and sometimes- well, sometimes a hand just wouldn’t do it. 

So when confronted with a small room and an even smaller bed in a motel in fucking Nowhere, California, Mark knew things might not end well. Controversial to the popular opinion, Mark was not  _ entirely  _ stupid.

It was of no surprise they ended up in the same bed- both to chivalrous to let the other brave the floor, each secretly hoping that they would somehow end up intertwined. When they finally got settled- showering in the tiny two by two bathroom, ending up clean and exhausted in a  _ very _ small bed. 

Mark didn’t know why he was surprised about the kind of dream he was having. Hell, he didn’t even think about where he was, in the dream, even when he knew it was one. Being able to hold Ethan, touch Ethan, have Ethan rutting against him and a mess with pleasure- the feeling was too intoxicating to let himself move away from. Mark knew it was a dream, it just wasn’t one he ever wanted to wake up from. 

He might be stupid, he realized, as Ethan’s voice filtered into his sleeping brain, dreams and reality beginning to blur and fade. Slowly, ever so slowly, he remembered the tiny motel bed.

“Mark- you’re-” Ethan’s voice was constricted in embarrassment. 

Oh, he thought, finally shifting his lower half.  _ Oh _ . Mark’s groin was pushed up against Ethan’s ass, creating head-spinning friction. He nearly groaned from just the feel of it, mind flashing back to the dream he had been having, and then back to Ethan’s silhouetted form. He couldn’t see Ethan’s face, he noted, as it still seemed to be dark out. Maybe that was a good thing- he didn’t have to see Ethan’s disgusted expression at the thought of them in that way.

He really hoped he hadn’t said Ethan’s name.

Mark flipped to face the ceiling, hard on quickly fading. “I-” he started, quickly clearing his throat when he noticed how raspy his voice sounded. To his side, Ethan shivered. “I’m just- a little pent up, haven’t slept next to someone in a long time,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. He pointedly ignored the moments in which Ethan and Mark had shared a bed at his house, with no such a problem. That was different- the bed was bigger, more room for less touching. This bed had them still laying shoulder to shoulder to avoid falling off, despite how Mark tried to keep his limbs away from the younger man. 

“That’s okay. It’s- it’s completely normal.” Ethan said; breath hitching as Mark’s arm brushed helplessly against Ethan’s. If Mark didn’t know better, he would almost say Ethan sounded breathless, aroused. Mark would be hearing that sound in every one of his fantasies, he swiftly realized. “Are you- are you going to- take _ care _ of it?” Ethan muttered, growing more confident as he spoke. 

“Oh- I- no, that would be weird. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, knowing that I’m- I,” He trailed off, cheeks burning. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Ethan’s words were soft, cutting through the tension. _Oh_. Oh, what did _that_ mean?  “No it’s- it’s fine. I haven’t been able to- get off- by myself.” Holy shit, this was a fucking mortifying experience. “I’ll just- I’ll just go to sleep,” he said, turning away from Ethan. Mark heard the bed shift as Ethan moved toward him, taking in a shaky breath. 

“Do you need help?” Ethan’s words were so soft he was scarcely sure they had been spoken. Was he offering what he think he was? Shakily, Ethan moved to fill the silence. “Just- as like- you know, a friend thing. Just for the contact. Nothing, heh, nothing weird.”

Mark’s heart sunk at the implications of his words. Just- just a friend thing, nothing more. Fuck, that was - so close to what he wanted, and yet so very far. But if this was all he would ever get- just this singular night, then shouldn’t he take it? Take what he could get, what Ethan was willing to give. “That wouldn’t change anything between us, would it?”

His voice was soft, shaky. Ethan moved closer, arms brushing as he muttered a “no” into the dark. “Sometimes- you just need someone. I get that. It’s not like- well, it’s not like our dating pools are too large, with youtube. It’s just a helping hand.”

“We shouldn’t do that. We-  _ You _ have Mika, you can’t-” he paused, thinking about how to phrase this.

“Mika and I aren’t dating, Mark. She and Amy have been dating for a year now.” His voice was quick, almost like he was desperately trying to convince Mark to let him touch, let him help out. 

Wait, what? “Amy and- Amy and Mika?” A cool flood a relief rushed through him, before a subtle guilt that he had been so blinded by his jealousy that he had lost his sight. And yet- this meant he could  _ have _ this. Mark was allowed to have this one night with Ethan.

“Okay,” he croaked. For a few moments, the world stopped spinning. Every one of his limbs was frozen- the bed creaked, shifting in wait. Ethan’s fingertips dragged across Mark’s arm, the feather-light touch reinvigorating his previously uninterested dick. 

Slowly, Ethan’s hand drifted downwards, reaching for his sweats. He took his sweet time; like he was trying to memorize every line of Mark, like he wanted to always remember the broken sounds Mark made as he moved down his happy trail, shirt sliding up. It was so dark the moment could have been a dream- it was just  _ them _ , and then Ethan was putting his hand down his sweats and palming his aching dick. The groan that slipped from his lips couldn’t have been helped. It was  _ Ethan _ , and god, he wanted so much. He didn’t care if it was blasphemy, if it was a sin to want like this.

If God was real, Mark would find him in this moment with Ethan. If God were here, then Mark was pretty sure that this was an act of righteousness. 

Maybe  _ they  _ were holy. 

“Ethan, holy shit- please-  _ please _ touch me,” Mark was panting, his world exploding. His hands were sliding up into his own hair, tugging, creating the delicious kind of pain Mark loved to feel, the kind laced with pleasure. To his side, Ethan hissed at his words, moving his hand under Mark’s boxers, squeezing tighter, thumb sweeping over the top of Mark’s dick. God, he wanted to _ see _ Ethan. Wanted to _ touch _ Ethan, wanted them to come together, in tandem. “Let me touch you, Ethan -just- just for tonight, only this once, please,” he begged, unable to think. His brain was shrouded in a fog of lust.

Ethan whimpered, a clear yes. Mark rolled over quickly so Ethan was laying below him, eyes dark and heady. Painstakingly, he’s rolling down Ethan’s pants and boxers, taking them both in his hand. In the back of his mind, he recognizes- Ethan is hard. Achingly hard, dick pounding in his hand as he touches them both. Every sound coming out of Ethan’s throat is breathy, high pitched, only adding to the fire burning in Mark’s gut. He knows that if he opens his mouth he is just going to call Ethan’s name, a prayer, a glaring sign, so he buries his face into Ethan’s neck. 

The world is speeding around them as Ethan continues to arch into him and they rut together. Minutes pass- or maybe seconds, maybe hours, but the point is the world doesn’t matter when he has Ethan like this, aching and wanting in his arms. Something in his lower gut is building, building until it switches, and then he is biting into Ethan’s neck, coming right onto their stomachs. Ethan follows right behind, hands snaking into Mark’s hair and pulling, body falling limp. 

Mark rolls away from the sticky mess, staring into the still-dark ceiling. 

It’s cold, he realizes as Ethan hands him a tissue to clean himself up, both of them sobering up from their activities.

“It’s cold,” he says; world falling apart. Belatedly, he thinks: he should have cherished this moment, this singular moment. If this was the only time he got to have Ethan like this- in the dark, away from the light- he should have cherished it more. Should have taken in every single moment.

Even so, Mark knew he would never have made a different choice. He would take that over nothing for the rest of his life.

Mark knew he would take anything Ethan could give him.


	9. for the moments in life that cannot be erased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay so this took longer than expected heh oopsies  
i've just had a kind of shitty few days and been real tired, no time to write. regardless, had a lot of fun getting into this one, hope you enjoy it!  
as always, leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed as that really motivates me to write more! hopefully next chapter within the next two days

The car ride to San Francisco was silent, but Mark’s mind was not. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan, who offered to help him. Ethan, who let Mark touch him. They both were encased in their own awkward silences, occasionally making an off-balance attempt at a joke to keep the air from suffocating them.

God, was this what they were now? Mark suddenly wished nothing had happened between them. At least then- at least then, they would be able to talk. To laugh. All he knew is that right now, Mark was sitting right next to Ethan, and he missed him more than he ever had. 

The navigation chimed. 30 miles till they were off the freeway.

“Could you turn on some music?” Ethan’s voice was soft, not really there. Mark took it as a chance to try and lighten the mood- he figured if he and Ethan were going to be awkward about this, he might as well try to move on from it as fast as possible. And so he flipped on _ All Star _\- watching as Ethan’s face flipped from confusion to slight horror to looking like a cat got his tongue.

“Oh, fuck you! I know this song! It’s- The Shrek Thing, the fucking-” Ethan paused, searching for the words as the chorus began. Mark started laughing uncontrollably at Ethan’s frustration. God, he couldn’t believe he was so in love with this one man. 

“The Star! Star- something! All Star! It’s fucking called All Star, fuck!” Ethan finally sputtered out. Mark wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes from laughing so much, focusing back on the road. It wasn't that the instance itself was all that funny- Ethan forgot words and song titles on the daily, but for some reason, after the heaviness of before, Ethan being his regular self felt nice. Ethan turned on some old Beatles music, fingers tapping to the rhythm, and soon, they had moved into Elton John and a few Queen songs. Both he and Ethan began belting along, windows down and hair blowing in their faces. 

Soon, they were back into the comfortable conversation they had shared on the way up there, voices hoarse. They were pulling towards the Golden Gate Bridge, reading to hop out and find a nice view. Mark hadn't planned to go to the famous bridge, but after Ethan said he had never been, he knew he had to take him. He wanted to see that beautiful and wondrous gaze the younger man’s face would take on- so unaware that Mark could only look at him in awe.

“Alrighty, Blue Jay. Ready to see a wonder like never before?” Ethan only nodded, nearly jumping from his seat. Sunset was nearing, and Mark still wanted to get to the top of the hill so they would have a nice view, so he pulled Ethan along, up a faintly trodden path.

After mere minutes of exertion, the red bridge spanned in front of them, a feat of architecture. Mark spread out the blanket he had brought from the car, noting that the area was blissfully empty due to the time. No one was really going to watch the sunset over Golden Gate Bridge on a Wednesday in January. 

“You know, for a while, no one thought it would be possible to build a bridge like this, because of the currents and waves. But here it stands, more than 50 years later. It’s amazing,” Mark adopted a quiet tone, so as not to disrupt Ethan’s study of the landscape. Below, the sea was thrashing in the biting wind. Up here, though- they seemed to be at the crux of worlds. Like they were holding the sky and the sea together. They sat there in comfortable silence as the sky faded from blues to orange and into a dusky purple. Ethan shifted, opening his mouth to speak.

“This has always been on my bucket list. It’s- it’s even better than I thought it would be.” Ethan’s awed look caused Mark’s heart to pitter fondly. 

“Of course, man. I’m glad I got to help.” Mark truly was grateful for this- to see Ethan so totally vulnerable and utterly curious. To see how the golden sky made his eyes glitter.

“No, Mark- I mean it’s always been on my bucket list to go here with _you_.” Ethan blushed, murmuring bashfully. “And I want to say thank you, Mark.”

The faint pink glow of the sunset masked any redness in his face, but he couldn’t escape the way his heart shattered and pieced itself back together, throwing his feelings right into Ethan’s unknowing hands. 

“It’s nice to have a friend I can do this with,” Mark said, words tingling unpleasantly. It physically hurt to admit that that was all he and Ethan were: just friends. He wondered who Ethan had been thinking of, last night. Who was it that Ethan would rather be here with?

Ethan grimaced, focusing back on the illuminated structure. Cars raced by in a blur of lights, and Ethan’s hair seemed to catch last dregs of daylight. The moment was ethereal, ineffable. Mark couldn’t destroy it if he tried- his mind physically would not allow him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t remind himself that this wasn’t what it felt like. They were not two pining lovers, waiting for the other to say what they were too scared to. They were just this- this game of pretending. 

“Who did you think of?” His words skittered over ice, catching in the cracks of his throat. “Last night, that is. Who did you think of when you closed your eyes?” Mark shut his eyes, unprepared for the answer even if he himself asked the question. Ethan remained silent, considering.

“I thought- I thought of nothing, Mark. It isn’t important, what I thought of. It was just for relief, that’s all. That’s all I thought of.” Ethan withdrew into himself, the lights on the cars becoming brighter as the sun said farewell. Mark knew Ethan wasn't going to say his name- knew that Ethan didn’t feel like that for him- but still, his head sunk, and he yielded to the sadness.

* * *

They were both shivering by the time the heat had begun to run again in the car. Mark, being the stupid human he was, thought that they should go by the rocks below, and look at the water. Now they were both misted with wintry saltwater, and Ethan was sputtering over how stupid it was to go down there.

“Well the real question is, why did you follow??” Mark’s voice became slightly shrill in his signature exasperation. They decided to drive for at least 2 hours before stopping for the night, this time to a somewhat better but still not amazing hotel.

“Oh c’mon, you knew I would follow you! I’ll always follow you!”

True, he ceded, before doing a double-take. Thankfully, he schooled his face.

“Oh, is that so? You’ll _ always _follow me!” Mark’s heart swelled with pride at the generous compliment, tone light and teasing. Mark had always been particularly susceptible to praise, and Ethan was no exception to the rule. Through his peripheral, he spotted Ethan’s gaze on his face, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, still staring at Mark. His throat clenched, words and subtle teases falling back down his spine. 

Again, he had to remind himself- they weren’t that. They were not what he so desperately wished they were. Ethan was his best friend- who would follow him anywhere, who Mark dreamed of every night, who he cried over all the damn time. Just that. 

Even so, he loved to pretend.

* * *

This next hotel had two beds, to his subtle dismay. More importantly, however, it was warm and dry. Mark, who was currently hurtling towards the bed by the window, was determined to win the spot near the window. Ethan, to his right, was also running full speed, desperate to nab that same bed. A last-minute tackle by Mark stopped Ethan from reaching the bed first, instead sending them both tumbling into it, landing in a large ‘oof.’ He cackled as Ethan yelled at him for cheating, hair all in his eyes and arms pinned down by Mark.

_Oh. _Ethan looked _good_ like this, he noted, laughs falling silent as they both caught their breath.

Everything laid suspended in wait, time standing still. Below him, Ethan lay unmoving- eyes shuddering closed, lips slightly parted. There were moments, in life. Moments where everything sat at the edge of a cliff, ready to change, for the world to tip. Moments where you had the choice, the choice to choose that frightening change. Moments when you knew it was now, or you were destined to wait forever for another moment that might never happen.

This was one of those moments.

For a second, Mark thought it was one of those moments. A moment where they were both just waiting for a single movement, a broken word. And for a second, Mark almost made that movement. Almost played his hand. Then, for a nanosecond- a flicker of fear in Ethan’s eyes, of discomfort. So minute he never would have seen it if it weren’t for their burning stares. 

Mark let the moment past, crawling off the bed and letting Ethan win.

Ethan, who had flicked on the TV after Mark had moved away, seemed close to falling asleep. Mark’s eyelids also felt heavy, he noted, slipping under the covers without changing out of his day clothes. The random show playing through the room acted as a cover from the heavy silence, only making it all the easier to slip into a world beyond this one. 

He dreamt of leaning in. He dreamt of the Golden Gate Bridge. He dreamt of Ethan.


	10. until we cave, we can play by the rules of this game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this took a lil but of time jfsjfsnfd jfc but its p long so i hope you likeee it  
the boys are so stupidd i yi yi  
as always, leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed! it motivates me to get these chapters out to you fairly fast djksjf i had a lot of fun with this chap  
okay enjoyyy

“Mark, you ready to go?” Ethan looked over his shoulder, hauling up his bag. He had somehow ended up with a pair of flannel pajama pants on, and they hung loosely around the dips of Ethan’s hips. His gaze flickered, taking in the subtle dip of Ethan’s hipbones. While any man could see Ethan was relatively scrawny, no washboard abs or three-piece arm muscles, the man in front of him stayed relatively fit. Mark even found he preferred the less muscled look- or maybe he just preferred Ethan. The sound of a snap rung through the air, and he looked up to see Ethan’s eyebrows cocked, an expressive grin. “My eyes are up here, dumbass,” he scoffed, waltzing from the hotel room. 

Mark merely sighed, face pink. He followed Ethan out to the car, turning the words over in his head. That smile felt so suggestive- so enticing, like a soundless invitation: _ Let’s fall together again. Take my hand, I swear I don’t mind. _ And then so fast, it was gone. Was Ethan- was Ethan _ teasing _ him? Fuck, did Ethan know how Mark felt? Was this all some kind of shit joke, a way to lighten the tension? God, his heart couldn’t handle that.

* * *

The remaining drive back to Mark’s wasn’t all that bad, considering how the other car rides had gone. Mostly, it was just mindnumbing- Mark must have flipped through every song in his library before forfeiting the job to Ethan. To be quite honest, he had never minded the man’s music taste, as much as he had teased Ethan for it. Regardless, Mark still acted disgruntled over every other song that began, despite insisting that Ethan keep the song.

“You know, I get the feeling you don’t mind my music taste as much as you pretend to,” Ethan cheekily said, tone joking.

“Oh come on, you know I don’t listen to this type of bullshit in my spare time. I mean, Jesus Ethan, you might have a good voice but the music-” 

At this point, he was purposely making jabs. Ethan let free a weak laugh, mood falling flat. “You think I have a nice voice?”

“You know I do!” Mark had missed the subtle tone change in the conversation. Ethan looked out the window, squirming. “Oh, c‘mon bluejay,” he said, tone softening, catching on to Ethan’s nerves. “You have a very nice voice, and I love to hear it.”

It was so true. Mark could listen to Ethan sing for forever, just under his trance. Maybe Ethan wasn’t the most amazing singer on the planet, that didn’t matter. To him, everyone else paled in comparison to Ethan. Getting to hear Ethan sing, especially when he was looking at Mark, made him feel like he was on fire. Like his every cell was under inspection, magnifying his microscopic fissures. Mark knew he shouldn’t love it as much as he did, but he had never minded the pain. In fact, he quite liked playing with fire.

“I- You’re too nice, Mark,” Ethan said, insecurities all but right in front of Mark. 

“Not to you Ethan. Not to you.”

The road stretched on.

* * *

“You can’t lie, he is a very pretty man,” he said, unthinking. Tyler stood in front of him, admiring Ethan’s form as well. “I saw he has a personal trainer now, it definitely is paying off.”

“Pining a little, eh?” Tyler looked at him knowingly. Mark blushed, teeth pulling at his lip. 

“Shut up,” he said, hand rubbing his neck. Ethan stopped pulling whatever he had been moving, rather looking back at Mark and Tyler’s grinning faces. Ethan’s piercing glare caught Tyler’s eyes, Mark staying unaware.

Tyler stepped away.

“I mean, it’s not like I could help it, it’s just-” Mark continued, still facing the ground. He didn’t even notice Ethan slowly moving back towards them, now in hearing vicinity.

“It’s just what, Mark?” Ethan’s voice was poised like a knife, but his eyes still hid his bite. Ethan was paying him rapt attention, hands bolted across his chest. Mark, the stupid man he was, completely missed the tension. 

“I- I- uhh.” he faltered, looking around. “It’s nothing, Ethan.” 

Ethan moved away sightly, nostrils flaring. “No, what was it. I wanna know, man.” 

Tyler swooped in, a knight in shining armor. “Mark got hard watching Avengers Endgame. Old Tony Stark just really got him going, you know?” Ethan, looking unsure, decides to let it slide, smiling slightly. Suddenly Mark couldn’t be more thankful for Tyler’s distraction.

“Okay, okay, if I was gonna get hard over anything it would Cap’s ass. No offense to Tony, but I have some sense of decorum,” Mark jumped in, the mood slowly deescalating.

Tyler seemed to exhale as Ethan let loose a snort, Tyler’s shoulders sinking like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

“Let’s just go ahead and film, alright?” Tyler started walking towards the chairs, sending a knowing wink Mark’s way and sitting so that Mark and Ethan would be forced to close proximity. Just from the teasing on Tyler’s face, Mark could already tell- this was going to be torture. Sometimes, just sometimes, Mark was so right. He hated it.

* * *

**Ethan’s POV**

This day was torture. 

Tyler and Mark were again laughing over some joke he couldn’t understand, with the latter blushing cherry red and antsy. Maybe a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have minded. Well- maybe he wouldn’t have minded as much. But now he knew Mark _ liked _ guys, and that kind of changed the game. Not to mention their night in the motel.

So yeah, Ethan was jealous. He knew Tyler was probably Mark’s type- hell, he had never even dared to hope that he was anything that qualified as Mark’s ‘type.’ It was one thing, though, to know that your crush liked someone else, and another to face their blustering outright. Ethan decidedly disliked this new development, especially when it resulted in him sitting in a corner chair with his nose in his phone, anger seething now that the cameras weren’t rolling. Was it healthy to get this jealous? Likely not, but Ethan supposed he would talk to his therapist about it. 

“Alright, I gotta get home now,” Tyler said, pulling Mark into a hug and whispering in his ear. God, he detested that. Not knowing what was happening. That feeling that he was missing something monumental. Despite his swirling anger, Ethan still stood up, pulling on an ‘I’m fine’ face and saying bye to Tyler. Sooner than Ethan could really catch up, Tyler was out the door, leaving a cold air between him and Mark. A question rose up his throat, like bile.

“You like him, don’t you?” He stated, gritting out the question. Saying the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and mentally, he braced himself for the worst. Ironically, Mark just fell into laughter at the question, leaving Ethan baffled.

He had really expected a quiet yes, some subtle indication of what he already knew. Instead, Mark just_ laughed _, like the very idea was ridiculous. Because of course it was, Ethan realized, internally smacking himself at his stupidity. 

“No, Ethan. I don’t like him,” Mark said, with an air of finality. Despite that, Ethan could have sworn it felt like Mark was suggesting something; like he was somehow trying to tell Ethan a secret. Ethan just couldn’t place a finger on what it might be.

* * *

That night, after hours of several failed attempts to cook a meal, they finally settled into the couch for a movie. An easy silence hovered between the men as a random movie flickered to life. 

For a while, they stayed just like that, in quiet company. Halfway through the movie, though, a bit of a steamy scene rolled onto the screen, bringing with it subtle discomfort. 

“You know, the older I get, the more I realize how awkward filming these scenes must be,” Mark said, quelling the growing disquiet. Ethan was happy to direct his attention away from the film and to Mark’s rumbling voice. He snickered, shifting to face Mark. 

“Yeah, so scripted. Not really sure how the hell they ever do that, but I suppose they are getting paid,” 

“And how they always portray friends with benefits scenarios? They act like two people can’t just seek relief from each other without wanting more,” Mark scoffed, and Ethan felt skitterish. Was Mark talking about them? Because if so, that would imply that 1) what had happened in the motel could happen again and 2) that Ethan didn’t have a big fat crush on good ol’ Mark. Both implications scared the shit out of him, but also an almost excitement- more like anticipation- over what might be occurring.

“Yeah, heh,” He said, debating what to say next. Suddenly the arm he had slung around the couch in a casual manner by Mark, didn’t feel so casual. “Glad we aren’t like…” he caught Mark’s eyes, the brown pupils blown wide. “...that,”

Shit, had he said too much? His body was betraying him, arousal awakening at the burning look in Mark’s eyes. Just one observant glance at Ethan’s stance would portray all his feelings. Mark stayed his gaze, eyes unmoving. It was a small relief that he hadn’t looked down yet. 

“Ethan,” he said; name like a pray on Mark’s tongue. 

That was all it took before their faces came crashing towards each other, and all Ethan could think was that Mark was_ his. _A moment before their lips meant, a soft sigh escaped Mark’s mouth as he trailed his head to Ethan’s neck. “No kisses,” he muttered, biting into Ethan’s neck. His very sensitive neck, he might add. 

Ethan would be agreeing to anything Mark asked him right now. It had been a while since he had someone touch him with such devotion, even if he was just filling an empty void for Mark. It had been so long, and even just the rushed movements sent his brain careening. Though they had been like this before, this time was different. This time they were in the light. This time, he could see the hands roving down his chest and the hair brushing at his face. This time he could see the hunger in Mark’s eyes when he suggested they make their way upstairs. This time Ethan got to watch as Mark stripped off their shirts, muscles flexing. This time, his brain wasn’t even moving. He couldn’t even stop to think of what this meant; if he had stepped too far forward.

This time- this felt inevitable. 

* * *

**Mark’s POV**

To be honest, Mark was surprised he had held out as long as he had. From the very instant he heard the jealousy laced in Ethan’s voice, Mark knew that he was going to have this man again. The only problem was figuring out how to make that happen without actually revealing his feelings. 

When that movie scene came on, Mark felt like he had won the lottery. Now was his chance to guide the conversation to where he desperately wanted it to go. 

Even though he had thought out the best way to get Ethan in bed with him, he was still surprised when the moment actually came and he saw the same need reflected in Ethan’s eyes. He would be damned if he didn’t take advantage of it, he thought, despite the fact that it was desperately clear that they were just friends.

Either way, he had ought to hold a fuckin’ Guinness world record for not even kissing the dude. Hell, said ‘dude’ was currently beside him, in his bed, face looking satiated. He wanted to know all of Ethan’s faces. 

Just friends, Mark had said last night, despite the sorrow it wrought. What a stupid fucking idea. Right then, he realized how painful it was to have Ethan halfway. How soul-destroying it was to only ever have this. The feeling in his heart demanded to be rectified, and so he made up his mind: this would be the last time.

* * *

It was not, in fact, the last time, he discovered about a week later. Mark was far too weak not to cave when he thought of Ethan’s needy whines. After accepting that small fact, he decided that he would let it continue, enjoy as much as he got. He decided to simply let it happen.

And if this was going to happen, he needed rules. Rules to avoid almost-kisses. Rules to keep the channel intact. And rules to keep secrets just as that- secrets.

He and Ethan had decided these rules after waking up beside each other a week later. They even put them in a list- 1.No talking about it to other people, 2. No kisses or marks, no sleeping in the same bed, and 3. They would stop if it affected Unus Annus. It seemed simple enough, easy to follow. 

Wrong. Not being able to kiss Ethan was hell, he realized, body overflowing with untold affection.

Mark hated that second rule with every fiber of his being, but they had both said this was just for pleasure. Mark was just the only one idiotic enough to want more. So, Mark played by the rules and promised himself that one day, he would stop. That he wouldn’t keep throwing himself into the pain of unrequited love.

Spoiler Alert: It happened again. And again. Until all it took was a nod and they were falling into each other. Until most of their nights were spent learning each other in the cover of dark and rushing to separate beds before the morning light. Until Mark knew Ethan from the sound of his moan alone. And it would keep happening, until someone caved. Until something changed.

No matter what happened, it was never the last time. Maybe because Mark never wanted it to be. Maybe because he didn’t really mind the pain.

Maybe because, regardless of how he felt, of how it hurt, Mark would never say no to Ethan. He was just too damn hard to resist.


	11. i'll hold you when you smell of rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, promising you guys fluff in this chap: cLowN chEcKKK  
okay but for real we are gEtting there i swEar okAY???? i've got some like actual plans and stuffs so these next chaps will move things along  
as always, please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed!!! it motivates me to keep writing :333

When he and Ethan would roll in late somewhere with disheveled hair and shiny skin, Mark realized someone was going to notice. They made no _real_ move to hide it; it just wasn’t _open_ knowledge. _Yet_. And honestly, it almost became a game, waiting for someone to ask. The questioning glances from his friends reminded him of the time when he had first discovered porn, and his mother had stared at him in question at the unrolled VHS tape, confusion prevalent. The same guilt, too- at finding something he shouldn’t have, something he knew he wasn’t allowed. Mark wasn’t _allowed _to have Ethan as he wanted him.

Mark wasn’t even sure he was allowed this, he realized, subconscious weighing heavy. Was he taking advantage of Ethan somehow? By wanting more than what they had? By getting more than he was giving to this arrangement? He hoped not. He really fucking hoped not. 

God, he needed to _talk _to somebody.

Anxiously, his hand ran through his hair, trying to smooth himself out. In front of him, Amy quirked her eyebrow, noticing that he was caught up in a web of thoughts. Mark merely shrugged, mouth moving in a silent ‘drop it’. 

Today, they were at the Aerial Silks place Mark had gone to nearly a year ago. Finally, they had found room in the schedule to make good on Mark’s past promise. Amy, who was there to film them flailing miserably in the sky, had arrived earlier than them, as shown by the impatient tap of her foot.

“Hey Amy, sorry we’re late, got-” he looks at Ethan, color draining. 

“We got caught up, sorry,” Ethan pipes in, saving Mark from his stalling words. 

Amy turns away, and it almost feels like they’ve gotten away with it, that it’s their little secret. That subtle relief is torn from his hands when he sees a shit-eating grin on Amy’s face.

Fuck, he thinks, considering the interrogation he would receive later.

Amy knows.

* * *

The video goes something like this: Mark is an absolute fool in love, it shows, and every move requires at least five tries off camera. It isn’t _his _fault Ethan’s background in gymnastics showed fantastically as he twirled himself in the silks. Ethan was so beautiful, his chestnut hair shining. Mark never wanted to take his eyes off him, lest he missed a second of that breathtaking view.

Sadly, he did have to blink.

“Alright, guys, I think we are done for the day,” the instructor said, stepping away from the mat and placing her hands on her hips. Amy began putting away the camera while both he and Ethan wiped off their sweat.

Honestly, they didn’t look much different from when they walked in here. 

Amy, with a quick gesture of her hand, has him grimacing at Ethan as he follows her out of there. He can feel the callouses break back into his fingers from clinging to the ropes, nails digging into his palm. He had no idea what the _hell _he was going to say.

“Honey, spill,” Amy said, in her no-bullshit tone. They were now safely in Amy’s car, Ethan already pulling out ahead of them as Mark brushed his sweaty palms against his jeans. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re even talking about Amy, nothing going on-” a voice crack betrays him, cracking in the air. Mark wanted to tell her so damn bad. He wanted to talk about that moment when he had first come out to Ethan, and the man had almost seemed jealous; about the time they had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up intertwined. Of Ethan hesitantly offering to help him in that tiny bed, almost like- almost like he wanted it. Wanted _ him _. Of sitting in front of the Golden Gate bridge and Ethan saying he had always wanted to be there with him. Of murmured I love yous and accidental nicknames. He wanted to say something so bad, so very bad; that Mark wasn’t even sure he had a choice in what he shared.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. We agreed- not to tell anyone. That it would just- complicate things,” Mark said, shuddering. Things were already too damn complicated. He felt a hot tear slip its way down his cheek.

“You’re gonna tell me anyway. Just get it over with, alright?” Amy sighed, pulling into the road behind Ethan.

“We hooked up. On the way to San Francisco. And then after Tyler left when we filmed a video like a month ago. And then it just- it just kept happening. Fuck, I hate this,” Mark confessed, heart heavier than lead.

Amy looked forward for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts.

“Wait, isn’t this a good thing?” She finally settled on asking, question clear. He just looked at her, somberly shaking his head. 

“We aren’t together, Amy. It’s just- just a friend thing,” he paused, breath catching. “It’s so close to what I want. But he doesn’t want anything more. We’re just friends.”

Amy stared at him with pity, almost condescending. Like he was some stupid animal who just couldn’t catch a hint, and she was ready to turn his head, so he didn’t run headfirst into a tree.

Amy faced back to the road. “Whatever you say, Mark.”

She knew this wasn’t her problem to fix.

* * *

This might be considered by some to be running headfirst into a tree, but Mark was not part of this majority. In fact, he barely even realized there was a tree to run into.

This conversation was a tree. 

“-I’m just saying, I’m going on this date, and I thought I should let you know! No input required, Mark!” Ethan said, pitch shrill and leaving no room for argument.

“I never said you shouldn’t go on the date! I was just saying that maybe you should get to know a guy a little better before you go to his house, for fucks’ sake! I don’t want you to get hurt, Ethan,” Mark’s voice was slowly rising in decibels as he grew more jealous. There was a viper in his stomach that refused to slumber until its hunger had been satiated. Until Ethan wasn’t going on a date with someone else.

“Oh? So you can go on dates with random guys, but the moment I do, it’s ‘unsafe’? What the hell, dude?” Uh oh. He didn’t see Ethan angry often, but this seemed to have done the trick.

“That was different, Ethan. That was different and you know it,” He says, quiet, more serious. He might as well have been made of glass for how fragile he felt, unspoken words flooding through the air:_ because then we weren’t anything, but now we are and I can’t admit that I don’t want you seeing other people because of that. _

Ethan scoffed, looking at the light above him. “We both know what we are, Mark. Don’t pretend.”

It stung more than he thought it would, the words Ethan spat out. They seemed to stretch out into the silence, both men in a standoff neither fancied being in.

“Do you like him? Does he make you happy, Ethan?” Mark thought he might cry. 

“Yeah, I do like him,” Ethan responded, both of them now conversing in hushed, almost whispered tones. Mark burned with it, unable to see Ethan’s blatant lie.

A long pause. “Then just- Just have a good time, okay?”

Ethan nodded, leaving the doorway and stepping into the early spring air. Both men were close to tears, Mark collapsing into a kitchen barstool and staring forward in silence. Chica patted up to him, head rested on his thigh. 

“Oh, Chica. I don’t even know how we got here. We were just filming a video and then wham- Ethan has to go and he tells me why and then I was just so angry,” he said, imagining that her little tail wag was in solemn agreement. Chica would be a fantastic therapist, he thought. Great at listening, she was.

Still, Mark knew he needed more. Chica was great. Fantastic with cuddles, amazing at listening. Chica, however, still couldn’t solve his problems. Couldn’t give him answers.

Couldn’t give Mark what he so desperately needed.

Couldn’t get him to confess to Ethan. 

* * *

Ethan showed up at his door late at night. It must have been half-past two- Mark was still up, mind wracked with guilt and jealousy. He couldn’t sleep, regardless of why he was up. So when Ethan came knocking at his door in the pouring rain, Mark did what any good friend would do- he let him in. Certainly didn’t let his gaze linger a little longer on the rain-soaked man. That was a decidedly nonstraight thing to do, and Mark decided to remain firmly on the other side of that slide.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Ethan was shaking, but it didn’t feel cold outside. A horrible sense of anxiety flooded him. What the hell happened on that date? Still, Ethan didn’t look like he really wanted to talk, and so he stepped to the side, letting him in under his arm. He seemed so small, so frail.

Mark went to go make some tea. 

“Okay, so I gotta wait for the water to-” He paused, Ethan suddenly in front of him. Mark let out a small oof as the younger man crashed into him, arms caging him in. Those two inches he had on Ethan was enough so Mark could, with some maneuvering, tuck his face into Ethan’s hair.

He smelled like rain. It clung to him, heady in its thickness. The water droplets on Ethan found their way on Mark’s hoodie, spreading in a cold transfer of body heat. Mark just held him. Just- let himself hold Ethan, murmuring into his frozen hair.

“It’s alright, blue-jay. You’re alright,” Mark said, hushed, a lover’s call and a friend’s embrace.

***

After Ethan had finally settled himself down, a teacup in hand and several blankets wrapped around his frame, Mark had decided that he had recuperated enough to at least talk about whatever happened. And if not the details, maybe he could at least tell Mark who to murder.

“What happened, Ethan?” His voice was soft, so as to not scare him off. Ethan took a large sip from his mug, gulping before setting it down.

“It wasn’t even-” Ethan said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t that bad. We were getting ice cream and this- this random person just sorta started yelling because we were holding hands, and he got really puffed up about it and socked the dude, then they got in a fight, and I just don’t really like that kind of thing, so I just called an Uber and I- I didn’t want to go home.”

When he started to speak, the story began spilling from him in droves, a mass exodus of stress from his system. Mark, despite overwhelmingly just being worried for Ethan’s current state, felt a swell of pride at the thought. Ethan came to _him_, of all places. Fell into _his _arms.

He wanted to protect Ethan forever, just fold him into his arms and never let them hurt again. Mark rubbed Ethan’s chestnut hair, which was still holding the moisture from the rain.

“That’s okay, Ethan. You didn’t have to stay if you wanted to. You wanna- I have room; if you don’t want to be alone.”

Ethan nods, dryly huffing out a laugh before asking for some warm clothes, both of them moving upstairs and crawling into Mark’s room. From a dresser drawer, Mark just happened to pull some of Cloak’s pride wear. He chuckled at the irony, chucking a hoodie and some pair of worn grey joggers. He was already clad in his pajama wear- belatedly, he realized he was in dire need of some new sweats. These ones pulled weirdly at his hips, dipping low. At least that explained Ethan’s subtle gaze towards him as he had been collecting mugs and moving pots. 

Ethan was already half undressed when Mark turned around, rain-soaked shirt struggling to peel it’s way off his body.

“Here, let me,” Mark gestured before realizing Ethan couldn’t see him. “Let me help you out there,” he said, and then he was walking over. The flashbacks to every night that came before involving Ethan in a similar state undress. Embarrassment threaded his mouth shut and his hands began sliding up Ethan’s side, evoking a soft shudder. 

It was just the cold, he told himself, about the goosebumps he saw scattered against Ethan’s skin. As soon as the shirt had cleared Ethan’s head, he found himself scuttering away, muttering a hurried excuse of ‘_bathroom’ _before walking out into the hallway. Because it wasn’t like he had a fucking bathroom in his room, was it? Fuck, he was so stupid. Say he was going to the bathroom and then walking in the opposite direction. Who the hell did that, he wondered? Probably just him. He just couldn’t be in the room for the rest of that. Mark would do something he regretted, probably confessing to Ethan. Mark couldn’t let himself do that. 

Right now it didn’t matter, though- why or why not he was going to confess to Ethan. Right now he just needed to get back in there and comfort him.

God, he hated the world, Mark tiredly recognized. People like Ethan didn’t deserve that.

***

When he pushed back into his room, Ethan was already curled up on the left side of the bed. The side Mark usually took.

That was all the indication he needed to crawl up behind Ethan, Mark’s hoodie engulfing his smaller frame. Mark wrapped an arm around him, moving in close. The tension in his body relaxed, and he felt Ethan exhale in relief.

He looked beautiful in Mark’s clothes, wrapped in Mark’s arms. 

He always looked beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there is any errors,,, just let me know,,, its late and grammarly can only do so much


	12. chemical balances of the brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a long week sjdjsfj... if any of you all were wondering, this will likely be around 20, 21 chapters so we gettin there. got a lot more angst planned so uhm. sorry? but not really asdjsjd. im sorry all i can do is keysmash  
anyways, if you enjoyed, please leave comments and kudos.  
also, as we reach the like,, 2/3s point of this fic i wouldnt mind some suggestions for whatever i write next? point is, if you have something you want me to write then leave a suggestion and hey i'll look into it.  
alright have a good day

**Ethan’s POV**

Falling asleep in Mark’s arms might just be everything he had ever dreamed of. The pride hoodie on him smelled like Mark- he was wrapped up in a home, and he honestly could sink into it forever. Just floating through the minuscule void between their bodies, the electrifying exchange of body heat and happiness and love.

“Mark?” Ethan asked, intent on asking if he could stay for the night. A delicate snore to his side forced the rest of the question to fall to silent lips. For a moment, he considered getting up, relocating to another bed. But almost as if he could sense it, Mark’s arms just coiled tighter, making it troublesome for Ethan to move. 

And besides, he concluded. He hadn’t been able to sleep this comfortably for a while, and it was likely the same for Mark if his recent tiredness and irritability were any indication. Why shouldn’t he let himself have that?

That next morning, Ethan was awoken by an unrelenting mid-morning light. The curtains, which were usually closed, were flung wide, and Ethan was alone on the bed. The side Mark had slept on was still slightly warm, and he heard the clattering of pans from the slightly ajar bedroom door.

Slowly, he made his way downstairs, still groggy from sleep. A magnificent view greeted him- Mark, standing in front of the stove, cooking bacon if the smell was any indication. Coffee seemed to be waiting on the island counter, and Ethan greedily took the warm liquid into his hands. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. You hungry?” Mark asked, with Ethan’s response being a grunted noise of agreement. His lips were still sealed around the coffee mug, inhaling the warmth. Mark had remembered how he liked his coffee. “Made some pancakes, just gotta finish up this bacon,” Mark said, glancing over his shoulder. Ethan caught a glimpse of his apron before Mark had turned around to attend the bacon’s sizzling- it had said, in red bolded letters, “kiss the cook.”  
God, Ethan wished he could. He wished he could just crawl up behind Mark and wrap his arms around the man, kiss on that pretty neck. Ethan wanted to nudge his nose along the tendons on Mark’s neck; press his lips to the pulse point, slide his hands down until-

“Don’t let ’em get cold, bud... “Mark said, wolfishly grinning as he leaned against the counter. The stove was now turned off, but there was a different kind of heat in the air.

Ethan shook it off.

The kitchen table had already been set for the two of them- a stack of pancakes laid in the middle, fluffy and golden brown. It was so domestic, this Mark. The one who cooked breakfast and wore silly aprons and cleaned up without being asked and oh, god, Ethan was so fucked. The man in front of him owned more of his heart than he could ever possibly know, possibly want, and Ethan felt like shaking from the intensity of it all. He was so vulnerable, for this one man. Only for this man, only ever for Mark. 

He took a bite from the pancake, seeing Mark grin goofily when he groaned in appreciation. It was so very domestic- like a scene straight from a hallmark movie. Except him and Mark weren’t anything. They weren’t anything at all, just friends and occasional fuck-buddies. Life wasn’t a fucking hallmark movie, Ethan reminded himself, racing through the food set in front of him. Mark cooking for him was a rare occurrence, and Ethan wasn’t one to let good food go to waste. Quicker than expected, the room lapsed into silence. The scraping of forks and quiet chewings had faded from the room, and all that remained was a detached silence and empty plates.

“Thanks, Mark. I- I really appreciate it,” He said, when the silence got too intense, a coffee with no sugar, bitter to the bone. Mark’s ears peaked at the compliment, cheekbones rising to meet his eyes. 

“It’s really no problem. I like doing this kinda stuff, for you. But I’m glad you liked it.”

“Can we do this forever?” Ethan asked, softly interrupting. “Just- this. Breakfast and just- I don’t know. Sorry,” He said as his words twisted around his tongue.

“I would like that. That would be- it would be nice,” Mark’s voice was gruff but not harsh. Some sort of polished rock. Ethan wanted to be the water that softened that voice out, the ebb and flow in the tide, continually pushing and pulling and changing each other. He didn’t ever want to try to find the ocean, ever find himself away from Mark.

Why had he gone on that date, anyway?

“Turn on some music,” Ethan said, before adding, “Classical. Like, the waltz kinda thing. I wanna teach you something,” He finished. Mark questionably glanced towards him before shaking his head and clearing the plates. For several minutes, he disappeared into the kitchen, reemerging as some faint notes began floating through the air. Ethan stood up hurriedly, gesturing for Mark’s hand. 

Promptly, they were moving into the living room, the music growing louder. His hand grasped Mark’s waist, the other interlacing their fingers. He led Mark in the beginning steps to the waltz- giggling when the older man stepped on his toes, blushing when Mark pulled them imperceptibly closer together. It was surprisingly reminiscent of the salsa dancing video, but softer. More private, intimate. This moment was not for others to see. 

It felt like the love of a lifetime, and glancing into Mark’s eyes, for a moment it might have looked like it too. God, how could he ever have wanted to get over this? How could he ever have considered moving on?

If Ethan never got another love for the rest of his life- If he only ever had this, no matter how far apart he and Mark grew, Ethan would be happy. Happy if only because he got to have a love like this. Where every moment felt too perfect for the waking world. Where no matter the fight, they always worked it out because more than anything, they hated being apart.

No matter what love truly was, according to science, according to the laws of the universe, Ethan knew, right here, right now, that even if the chemicals in his brain were perfectly balanced to create that feeling, this was bigger than that. Love was bigger than that. Bigger because every choice he had ever made had led him to love Mark. Bigger because every person he’s ever interacted with, ever loved, has been different. Bigger because the chances of him and Mark not only meeting but ending up here, in his house in the early afternoon with classical music swaying through the air as they dance through the room, had to have been minuscule. And Ethan had to believe that meant something. That maybe, every choice he had ever made was subconsciously guiding him to this.

To Mark. To Them. To this love raging in Ethan’s heart.

To Ethan, that meant something. That meant everything. He refused to try to move on because maybe Mark didn’t love him quite the same way. If he just got to be a part of Mark’s world, revolve into his solar system, that was all he needed. 

Ethan went on a date to get over Mark. How did it end up that instead of moving on, he had just realized he never actually  _ wanted _ to move on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is a lil short but to be honest i had a lil trouble with it so thats why. next chap will be hopefully longer hhh


	13. do we meet in our dreams? or do i just wish we did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okAy y'all this took,, a while.... oops. in my defense i actually was p busy this weekend, it was my cousin's birthday and shit. also though- if i had a playlist for this fic, would you guys want me to share it? cause if so then ill add the link sjdnjasdk aH! in addition, that 21 chapters is very tenative. i have a very very vague plan for this fic so im not rlly sure if itll actually end up that, i just wanted yall to have some idea of how long this was gonna be. things are picking up tho! shits bouta go DOWNNN  
as always, please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyedddddd okay that's all have a good day

Mark broke rules.

That’s what he was good at; what he knew. They said you can’t make a career playing games. He did it. They said not to mess with wild animals. Mark spent his entire childhood doing just that. He had almost died more times than he could count- all of the rules said Mark _should be _dead by now, but here he was. Alive.

Mark broke the third rule.

They had been filming a Never Have I Ever Challenge when he realized this. Or maybe that was just when he noticed it. Things had been different, of course, ever since Mark realized how he felt. But this was the first time Mark saw it, felt it burn in the air. This was a different kind of change than before. One of the questions- suggested by fans, of course- asked if Ethan had ever kissed a guy. Ethan, who blushed and said yes, quickly moved on even as Mark’s back grew rigid beside him. Even as they both continued to answer questions, the words wrapped around his bones, jealousy flaring.

It wasn’t like Mark didn’t _know _that. Hell, Mark himself had kissed a few. Mostly just for laughs, and it was likely the same for Ethan, but still. Hearing it still felt not… _ great _. Especially knowing that he wasn’t one of them.

So Mark withdrew. He pulled back his flirting jokes, sharpened his jabs. It wasn’t even really conscious, it just happened. Somehow, they ended up having to reshoot at least three portions of the video, because Mark had been too tense or one of his laughs a little too forced. Finally, finally, they made it to the end, satisfied with the footage they had got. They were wrapping up, Ethan just finishing up the outro- and Mark realized that the vibe had changed entirely. It reminded Mark of going somewhere far away as a child- the trip there filled with exuberance and infectious joy, whereas the trip back was merely a hollowed-out space of barely contained sadness.

Shit, Mark didn’t know what to do. If this- if Mark’s feelings were going to affect the channel, something had to change. If he wasn't going to contain his blatant jealousy from at least the camera's eyes then he needed to stop. Stop having Ethan at night only to lose him in the morning.

This wasn’t fair to either of them.

“Mark? You in there?” Ethan asked, waving in front of his face. To his front, the camera blinked, zoning him back into reality. 

“Ah. So sorry to zone out, where were we?” Mark said, no trace of guilty realization on his face as he turned to Ethan. Ethan mouths ‘outro’ while throwing him a concerned glance, and Mark nods. “Well anyway, thank you for joining us in this hellscape of a channel. Do remember- these videos, just like all of us, have an expiration date. In less than a year’s time, these videos will vanish, only to remain in your memories. So support the channel while you can. Join the cult,” he finishes, mentally noting to add some sort of effect there. Ethan just nods before they say farewell to the camera, shutting it and the studio lights off. Mark flops contentedly into an armchair, closing his eyes. Awkwardness lingers in the air, and one look at the younger man shows Mark that Ethan knows exactly what was running through Mark's mind when he zoned out.

“We have to stop sleeping together,” Ethan said, the words well-rehearsed and perfectly versed. He said it so fast that Mark nearly missed the subtle sadness that the statement carried.

Nearly being the keyword, that was. He caught it. He noticed it, felt it in his bones. It forced Mark to question- did Ethan even really want to stop?

Just like in every story, there was always a moment, he thought. A turning point, if you will. Maybe this was his moment. Maybe he would finally play his hand. Unchecked confidence surged, and suddenly, Mark felt so sure of himself. Of how Ethan felt. He had to say something now, had to reach out first.

He was going to confess.

His hands started to shake, a foul taste filling his mouth. Every grave outcome raced through his mind, fear pushing his previous conviction off a lofty cliff. 

Mark wasn’t normally scared of heights, but this fall terrified him in ways the ocean never had. Falling for Ethan had never really been a choice, but saying the words aloud, conveying how he felt- that was one he wasn't sure he could make.

One thing he wasn't sure he could say.

“Yeah,” He resolved on saying, confession unheard. The anxiety that had filled his body blustered away, replaced by an ancient sorrow. “Yeah, we do,” Mark said, this time fainter. 

He knew they had to stop. He knew that; was prepared for that. 

Then why did it still sting like alcohol on an open wound?

* * *

Flickers of time, at first. Infinity was running through an hourglass, flickering in and out of movement with his every blink. Like shards of a broken mirror realigning, Mark pieced together his stained childhood couch, the geometric patterns of Ethan’s shirt. The light shining in his eyes was red, or maybe it was blue, or purple. Nothing was a sure fact in this interval, in this place where time and memory intertwined like lovers. 

A charming smile from Ethan as they continued to talk of old memories. There was a weight in Mark’s hand, stable and grounding. Immediately, Mark knew it was Ethan. His thumb swept across the knuckles, brushing gently up the raised veins of Ethan’s arm. Ethan's other hand was raised, cradling Mark's face. The world around them- painted lilac, hazy blues- was somehow gold. Ethan’s voice was a quiet thing, sneaking into his ear and settling in his heart, eyes aglow with light. Mark leaned forward into him as they tumbled into space, lips uniting in a warm caress.

Mark was dreaming again.

The words tumble through his brain and out his lips, softly seeking, “Is this real?” He knew this wasn’t, Mark was no fool. But still, he had to ask. Had to ask and hear what his brain’s version of Ethan would say. Their foreheads touched, and Ethan’s breathe ghosted against his lips. He didn’t want to wake up.

“No, it isn’t,” Ethan said, goosebumps rising on Mark’s arms from the cold exhale of the words. 

***

He woke up.

Alone. That was the first thing he had noticed. Alone, but not lonely. The remnants of being held still lingered on his body, stinging like a foot that had fallen asleep. Ethan, though not in his room, in his bed, was heavy in his mind.

He flipped over, facing the ceiling. It had felt so real. Ethan’s voice, his subtle hesitancy in reaching for his hand, it seemed so natural. Like maybe he and Ethan were simply meeting in their dreams. Like it was possible that somehow, in the endless expanse of the universe, they had made their way to each other in the pitch black. That maybe, even if those soft kisses and subtle love never reached the daylight, he could have it in his fantasies. God, how nice that was to imagine. What a wonderful ideal to nurture, no matter how untrue.

Mark reached his hand to the side of his face, the touch tingling in his cheek. He laid his hand over the spot which not long ago, was occupied by Ethan’s tender touch. 

Mark held his hand on the planes of his head and imagined another world.

A world where Ethan’s hand tingled in a soft remembrance of their shared dreams. Where Ethan paused whatever it was he was doing to feel the warmth radiate in his hand. Where love wasn’t just this aching pain, wasn’t just a painful longing. A single tear slides down his cheek, salt stinging an old papercut on his hand. 

In his fantasies, Ethan would kiss those tears away. In a better world, he never would have been crying alone in the first place.


	14. the gravity of spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? projecting on this fic? more likely than you think,, hehe. in addition, been listening to "the edge of sleep" which is a podcast and mark is one of the voice actors, its so damn interesting. been a real fuckin busy week, so this chapter has taken a while! but busy is okay. busy is good, i like busy. as always, i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

The gravity of spring had not yet set upon them this early into March, winds still whistling through the trees. Around Mark, the air still glinted with an unforeseen chill- it was the kind of day where you walked outside without a jacket only to return home shivering. 

Today, he and Ethan were taking a run together. Nothing fancy- just a quick jog around the block, but Mark loved it all the same. Running had always been a way for Mark to clear his head, stop thinking so much. And being able to fall into that subtle companionship with Ethan was easier than breathing- especially when he wasn’t overthinking every word he said.

After finally slowing down for a moment, Ethan turned to Mark, panting. 

“You wanna-” he halted for breath- “wanna go back home? I need a nap and some food,” His hands are on his knees, eyes peeking up at Mark from where he has crouched over. Mark, who nods in agreeance, looks at the area they have paused in. Behind Ethan lies a field, seemingly full of weeds. Daffodils shine in a yellow glory, small purple flowers dotting the space. Floating in the background were little white puffs of dandelions. It was beautiful, and for some reason, it makes Mark think of Ethan. That same delicate beauty, yet strength to grow on the edge of spring.

The words registered in Mark’s brain, sending a sharp wave of nerves through his legs. Had Ethan said home? As in, he considered Mark’s house home? Oh. Wow, that made him far happier than it should have. His lip quivered in silent joy, and he looked behind Ethan at the glowing field, collecting himself. Mark sunk back into the moment, lets the need to kiss Ethan fade away to a dull roar.

“Ethan- look!” A childish glee colored his voice, and Mark drunk in the excited gleam in Ethan’s eyes as he spun around. Selfishly, Mark wanted to be the one who set that shine into Ethan’s eyes. Selfishly, Mark wanted Ethan to be his; wanted his house to be  _ their _ home.

They both brushed their way into the field, Ethan leaning down and grabbing one of those clouds of white. He presented it to Mark with a flourish of his hand, eagerly telling him to make a wish, grin foolish and toothy. It made Mark’s calves shake with the love he has for this man, this beautiful man. 

Mark, helpless to Ethan’s whims, fluttered his eyes shut and let out a puff of air, let out a selfish wish. Wished that maybe when he opens his eyes the love in Ethan’s pupils will be for him. 

His mom always told him not to be greedy, but he has a strange feeling she wouldn’t mind this selfishness.

“And? What did you wish for?” Ethan was yet again grinning fondly, eyes dilating. Mark shook his head, embarrassment dusting his cheeks. 

“If I tell you, it won’t come true! That would entirely defeat the purpose of making the wish!” Mark scoffed, hoping his nervousness didn’t translate.

“Aw, come on,” Ethan pouted, throwing his very best ‘puppy eyes’ his way. “You are no fun, Mark,” he continued, arms crossed in an exaggerated pout. He would do almost anything to get that sad look off of Ethan’s face, no matter how fake. But Mark wouldn’t share this. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to keep the little pieces of Ethan that Mark had. He exhales heavily, pulling Ethan’s arm until they are back on the route back home. Home, as in a place of love, of comfort. It had never felt more true.

* * *

When they finally made their way inside Mark’s house, both of their stomachs were grumbling with hunger. Ethan was quick to suggest takeout- they had some filming to do today, and little time for much else. 

It was funny, Mark thought. How remarkably okay he was with the domesticity of it all, with the pure love in their every action. It wasn’t how things were supposed to be. It wasn’t how such things had been intended to be. 

Then again, he had never intended to fall for Ethan. He just did, and he knew that would never change, no matter the weather, the city, the season. It was Ethan. It would  _ always _ be Ethan.

The food came quicker than expected, prompting Mark out of his stupor and up to the front door to pick up the meal- some kebabs from a place down the street, one of his favorites- and took it back to Ethan. He was laid out on the sofa, feet swiftly claiming Mark’s spot as his own and smiling wide, nostrils flared as he smelled the food.

“You got my favorite!” Ethan said childishly as Mark hands him his food. He puts on his most chiding half-smile at the younger boy’s foolery. God, he  _ wanted.  _ Mark wanted Ethan so bad it feels like he might explode from it. He wanted to worship him, prove himself worthy of him, lay beside Ethan and just stare. Just stare at him forever, until the cosmos reappears. Until every constellation his father taught him can be found in Ethan’s eyes. 

Mark has always considered himself an atheist, but the way he wants Ethan- the way he  _ loves _ Ethan- might have been a religion unto its own. 

“You stole my spot, you fucker. I will sit on your legs,” he said, voice laced with amusement. He latently nudged Ethan’s leg with his knee, then made good on his promise and plopped himself right onto his knees. Ethan yelped in pain, limbs ripping out from under him and moving in to cradle his chest.

“You oaf! You could’ve broken my legs,” he said, and Mark chuckled out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, god you should’ve seen your damn face. God, I would pay to see that again,” Mark said, shaking his head. Ethan just looked at him in a mix of exasperation and a grudging smile, eyes sparkling.

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, both munching on their food. Ethan, who finished quickly, was the first to set aside his takeout box and lazily flop his legs onto Mark. For the second time, Mark was hit with the undeniable domesticity of them. And just like before, it made him weak in the knees, soft from this goddamn feeling. 

Unwittingly, he felt his hand reach forward to the small eyelash he spots below Ethan’s eye. Mark’s hand cradled the smooth face, thumb swiping across his cheekbone and picking up the pesky eyelash. Ethan’s lips are slightly parted, eyes flickering around in an unasked question. Mark’s voice was caught in his throat.

“I-” he said, words dying down in his throat. The world around them sinks into static. “You had- there was an eyelash.” His voice was still sitting in his throat, hand still lying uncomfortably on Ethan’s face. Ethan’s eyes are pained- there was a subtle misty film descending over the blue-green irises. Mark wasn’t cocky enough to wonder about the way Ethan’s eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, suspended in the tense moment. Mark wasn’t stupid enough to think that maybe, Ethan felt the same.

His heart, though, still ached as he slipped his hand away, nerves tingling from the loss. His fingertips cool quickly to the room’s air, without Ethan’s furnace of a face to warm it.

“Sorry,” he says, heart racing. Ethan is still deathly quiet.

“What the hell are we, Mark?” Ethan whispered the words, so soft that he could scarcely hear it. Mark laughed bitterly.

“You know what we are,” he said, the words at first biting harshly and then fading into a dull ache. Surely, at this point, this had to be some cruel trick. Ethan had finally seen the truth, the whole truth, and decided it would be best to mess with him. Mark wasn’t sure how to explain the comment, if not that.

Ethan slumps back, legs withdrawing from Mark. The air was still thick with a pluming tension, and when Mark looked up, Ethan’s palm is resting in the same spot Mark had his own hand. Hope sparks a new flame in his stomach, but he douses that bitch quickly. Mark didn’t have room for hope. Barely had room for all this love.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Ethan bit out, lower lip curling in and a hand reaching to presumably wipe his nose. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- shouldn’t have touched you. Not with- not with everything,” Mark said, alluding to his very obvious feelings in a bold swipe towards honesty. Every time their eyes met it felt like they were engaged in some conversation that Mark could never know the words to.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have, Mark. Fuck you, Mark. Fuck you,” Ethan spat, collecting his stuff as he stared at the floor.

Wait, what just happened? And why was Ethan the one that was upset?

“Wait, what? Are you just? Are you just _ leaving _ ? C’mon, Ethan,” he said, rushing to catch the smaller boy. “Ethan, I get that it’s- I get that it’s delicate, but I didn’t think you would just- I promise, this won’t change anything between us,” Mark pleaded, edging on desperation. He wasn’t sure if what he was saying was true or if he just desperately wished it was. All he knew was that he would do what it took, to keep Ethan in his life. Mark wasn’t ready to lose someone else, not if he had a choice in the matter.

Ethan looks back at him, eyes red and glancing at the place Mark had grabbed onto his forearm. “Of course things are different, Mark. Unrequited love isn’t supposed to be  _ easy. _ It isn’t even supposed to be, but here we are,” he said, hand pulling back to his hoodie pocket. The comment flitters into the air, and Mark blanches. It feels cruel, especially for Ethan. To so blatantly call out Mark’s unreturned affections. He steps back, slowly at first, retreating to the living room.

“Go,” he calls out, tears burning on his face and salt slipping in his mouth. “ Just go.”

He doesn’t turn around to see if Ethan listened.

Mark doesn’t even stay long enough to hear the door shut.

* * *

Later, he called Amy; talked to her about all that happened. Honestly, just hearing the story made him pity himself. The fact that Amy could just sit and listen to this for hours on end- astonishing. If it was him, he would’ve kicked himself to the curb long ago.

“I just want this to be the spot when everything gets better. I wish I could just forget him, or at least move on,” he bemoaned while in near tears. She just sighed, clearly exasperated.

“Mark, what?” Amy paused in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You think Ethan now knows about your feelings. And doesn’t return them. Dear god Mark, you are stupider than I thought. You guys make a fucking perfect match, you oblivious fuckers,” and again, she stopped talking, seemingly collecting her words. “Look- I’m just going to give it to you as straight as I can; because obviously the rest of it hasn’t gotten through your thick head. He doesn’t know, Mark. And yes- I know what he said, I know it all, for the love of god! Please, go talk to Ethan. Show up at his house, or invite him over or run into him at a party for god’s sake, but for the love of fuck,  _ tell  _ him how you feel. You  _ have _ to confess; if you want to stay in his life,” Amy said, and Mark balked at the comment, looking to but in. “-and don’t you  _ dare  _ interrupt or disagree with me, here. You _ know  _ I’m right.”

“Well, didn’t have to monologue on me. Could have just written a letter, jeez,” Mark said, if only to fill the silence. In the background of the call, he heard a doorbell ring, and the corresponding  _ fuck  _ from Amy as she rushed out her goodbyes. He just sighed.

Chica bounds up to him from her place across the room, basking in the last dregs of sunlight. Her head settles between his legs, comfortably resting. “Well, Chica,” Mark says, petting her golden fur. “She isn’t wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i use so much religious imagery,, and that's on growing up catholic babey!!
> 
> let me know about any errors! i may worship grammerly but that bitch aint god, tell me if somethins up. in addition, pls do start leaving future fic suggestions if you would like to see me write more! this ones nearing the finish line!!!


	15. the hope of a future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it has,,,, been a while. i really got stuck on this chapter cause I wanted to do this slow burn some justice- a few comments I received today motivated me to actually finish it up, but its real short. i hope it does justice! as always, hope you enjoyed. there will probably;y be a few more chapters, we aren't done yet!

When Mark was finally ready to leave the house, to go and face Ethan, it was already dark out. A quick text to Amy clarified that Ethan was, indeed, at home, and Mark would not be showing up to an empty house, which was good. It was about the small victories; he thought while locking his door. Maybe, if he focused on the small victories enough, he could ignore the drizzling rain, the cloudy forecast.

The ground- at least, the parts not covered in a puddle, shimmered in the dark rainy night. Mark was careful to step gently, avoiding the reflection pools, and stepping to his car. The asphalt seemed like a galaxy of stars, right below his feet. Mark noticed that whenever a car would drive by, the red lights signaling their location would distort through the puddles, like a funhouse mirror. The world, too, was changing around his very eyes- forming its way around the hole in his brain that had been carved for Ethan.

Not even by choice, really. 

* * *

It wasn’t ever really a choice.

Anxiety pounded through his bones as he entered the apartment complex. He needed to get the hang of his feelings. Needed to talk, for once in his damn life. He shuddered from the horror. Stupid Ethan and his foolish self, forcing him to talk. To confess, for god’s sake, lest he faces Amy’s wrath. The door loomed in front of him, tall and foreboding despite its small stature. Carefully, oh so carefully, he rapped in the door. 

The door creaks open, and the butterflies in his stomach were oddly reminiscent of his one date with Jay, back when all of this had begun. 

“Hello?” a voice rung out. It was Ethan, croaking and exhausted. 

“It’s me, Ethan,” he said, equal parts gruffness and subtle sorrow. A pause, the door opening. The boy in front of him is so far away from the one he sees in videos, where joy is a drug and them the addicts. Tears left light trails on his reddened cheeks.

Hesitation filtered into his face, and his hands began to quake. Ethan was quick to wipe away the latent tears beading in his lashline, and quickly, he was stepping aside to allow Mark entrance. With a gesture of his hand, he and Ethan are moving to the couch in suffocating silence.

Mark came here for one thing, and one thing only. He might as well go ahead and get it out, ruin the friendship. 

He looks over at Ethan, mouth dry as a desert. When he met Ethan’s eyes, he could see his same scared anticipation, the same silent longing. He feels the hope cave into his bones, feels the want craft a face that wasn’t really there.

But he was willing to risk it, for this. For the minuscule chance that Ethan might feel the same.

The certainty is filling him up.

His hand was reaching forward to Ethan’s face.

A breath of warm air ghosts over his lips, and Ethan’s eyes shutter closed.

All at once, he knew.

So irrevocably, he knew, could feel the memories sinking in his bones. 

Mark knew. After what must have been months of cluelessness, Mark knew how Ethan felt for him. And yet, here they still were, only friends, everything going unspoken, unsaid. Because they were scared. Scared of how the dynamic would shift, of what would happen if it ended badly. Terrified that it wouldn’t be right- that they would kiss and one- or both- of them just wouldn’t feel it.

He was so tired of it. Of the waggled eyebrows, the edging over platonic flirts, the almost-kisses, how utterly distracted he would get at a simple brush of Ethan’s hand. Of touching Ethan and pretending it wasn’t everything he wanted. Mark was ready to know what was in store for them, what was there when they stopped being suspended in the wait. He was scared, of course- but infinitely more terrified of letting this slip by, to not catch it with arms open wide. What did it matter that maybe he wasn’t sure how it would end? Wasn’t it enough, that Mark would follow Ethan to the ends of this Earth and off to the next?

Maybe he didn’t have to know it all, all the possible outcomes, all the possible futures. Maybe it was enough, to know that he never wanted a day of his life to be without Ethan. That he wanted the terribly domestic, the arguments, the cuddles in the dark, the silent companionship, that silent “I am with you.” Maybe it was enough to know that he loved Ethan wholly, completely, as who he was. Every quirk and flaw.

Maybe, they were enough.

He leaned in.

Their lips touched, and Mark let himself fall into it. Let himself press his forehead against Ethan’s and shake with tears. Let himself feel more than just the hurt of the past- let himself notice that glimmering spark-

The hope of a future.


	16. the meaning behind the motions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. it has been. very long. i am very sorry. life sort of got busy and i just- couldn't get myself to write. all the words got stuck. writer's block, some call it. so i apologize for the long hiatus- and also, for this exceptional short chapter that i am posting here today. but hey, we r starting small. enjoy!

When Ethan pulled away, finally, his first worry is that maybe Ethan would regret it. That they had crossed a line that Ethan had no intention of moving past. But he pulled back, and he felt the resistance from the other man, the infinitesimal clench of his hands on Mark’s shirt where his palms rested. And in Ethan’s eyes- pure adoration shining through. It felt like breaking the surface of a pool and feeling your lungs be soothed by the oxygen.

“I never thought-” he said, but his voice is gruff with strange emotions. “I never thought that would happen.”Ethan just nodded, and he buried his face into Mark’s shoulder.

“Mark, I- this meant something to me, more than you could know,” he said, tone suddenly more severe. Scarily honest.  
Mark kissed his forehead because he could. Because he was allowed that now. Because finally, after months of dancing around this, they finally collide, head first. In a beautiful cacophony.

“It meant something to me, too.”

The talking came later. Much later. They had stood in that hallway for ages before eventually stumbling into the bedroom, collapsing onto Ethan’s bed and just holding each other, till dawn stretched its limbs, golden and warm. Waking up was a comforting affair- slowly, he shook Ethan up and into the waking world. Surprisingly, after getting a little coffee in him, Ethan was the one that asked that fated question: what are we, now? It only took a few soft words for both of them to blush like idiots- but now, they were actually, officially a couple. Exclusive.  
He was blushing like a child, but when he saw Ethan’s toothy grin, he found he didn’t quite care.

“So, we were supposed to film today. And I have to go feed the dogs, so want to go ahead and head to my house, boyfriend?” An infectious smile is flooding his face, and the bright pink dawn that spills onto Ethan only made him grin wider.

“Why, yes, I do!” Ethan said, offering his elbow in a mocking style. The air was clearer, and with a sparkling certainty, Mark realized he was so ready for the path ahead.

* * *

The speed at which that newfound certainty fell apart, was, in fact, alarming. It took the lesser part of the month before his insecurities started slipping in. He would be sitting at home, and all it would take is one reminder of how quiet they were keeping the new developments, and he felt like a fraud. Who was he to not want to show his amazing boyfriend off? Why was he so unable to just come out and say it?

Feelings were so messy, and what made it worse- not even his closest friends knew. Sure, Amy did, and Mika may, to an extent, but all his best friends, his family, his own mother: they had no idea, and it was killing Mark. It was killing him because it was his fault that no one knew. His fault that despite his trying, he could feel a very heavy shame. Internalized homophobia, a voice in the back of his mind called it. Coward, another one called.

Why the hell did he have to deal with this shit?

“Mark. Mark, you good?” Ethan says, jolting him out of his stupor. No, Mark thinks. No, he is decidedly not good, but that would have to wait. He gives a tight smile and curtly nods, slipping his hand into Ethan’s. But Ethan was insistent, to Mark’s dismay. “No, you aren’t, Mark. What’s wrong?”

“No, really. I’m good. Just- I’m-” Mark started, but a little part of him balked at the words at the tip of his tongue. Scared? Anxious? Mark didn’t get scared about this shit. He took life by the balls and fixed the rest of it later.

“Hey. It’s alright. This is completely new, alright? I love you.” Ethan’s words crumble something in his heart. “You can be scared,” he says, raising Mark’s hand to sit over his chest, his heartbeat. “I am too.’

He wants to say it back. He wants to say it back so badly, but there’s a barrier between his mouth and his brain. Something in his spinal cord has dislodged and caught in the back of his throat, and no sound can make it past. So he nods, keeps nodding, and wraps his arms around Ethan.

Mark’s terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also! thank you to all the peopl who have commented and/or left kudos. i really appreciate that. to be clear, i am very determined to finish this fic. i know how much it sucks to have a fic abandoned and you just keep checking it to see if it's posted, and to be honest i almost did abandon it. I've started writing what will likely be a pretty big kiribaku fic, but i really don't want to post a new fic before i finish my current one. so, yes, this fic will get finished. leave comments and kudos if you liked this chapter, thank you for reading!


	17. perfect, but not enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan is worried. Feelings ensue.

Ethan knows for a fact that something is wrong. Everything he has ever wanted for the past so many years- at least romantically, of course- is right within reach, but Mark is pulling, pulling right on back. 

It takes a month for things to finally come to a head. 

Mark invites Ethan to stay the night after a long day of filming, and the way they smile at each other, the way Mark  _ grins  _ as he pulls him into the sheets- it’s wonderful, amazing. 

They tangle up for what feels like hours, clothes left at the wayside. And as he shudders, tucking his face into Mark’s neck, he says those damning words:

“I love you,” he sighs out, and Mark freezes, if only minutely.

It’s perfect, the slow build to that glimmering edge. It’s ineffable, visceral, and yet Ethan feels the spike of longing. Longing to hear those words repeated back as he falls over. To have his worries fade away.

Ethan gets it, really. Mark’s hesitance. And yet- he knows he needs more. Maybe even deserves more.

It’s perfect, to be with Mark. But it’s not enough.

* * *

“Mark,” he starts, gentle, like approaching a wounded animal. Mark hums, content, but his arms are stiffer than before. The sheets, white and pale against his bare chest, crumble artfully as he pulls a hand through his hair. “I-” he tries, to no avail.

Mark shifts, sensing the mood of the conversation. 

Ethan tries again. “I know that it’s… hard, too.” He stops. “To be vulnerable. And I don’t mean to be pushy, but I want to talk about what I said.”

Mark almost seems to recoil, shoulders tensing as he grows defensive.

“I meant what I said. I love you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. But…” he breathes out. The morning dips into the room, wearily, slipping through the gaps in the curtains. “I get if you can’t, or-or- don’t want to say it back, and that’s okay, but I need to know you’re serious about this relationship. Because, Mark, I am, and I can’t be the only one.” He finishes. Mark looks a little stunned for a moment, eyes glancing around the room. 

“You aren’t,” he whispers, but it goes unheard. “I…” 

Ethan feels his throat close up.

“I’m so fucking serious about this Ethan, you have no idea. I’ve just…” he pauses, parsing his words. “I’ve never dated a guy before,” Mark cringes.

Ethan breathes, breaking the tension in his throat. 

“I can’t say it yet,” Mark shudders. He seems close to tears. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything else. He clambers into Mark’s arms and tries to convey how much those words mean, even if they aren’t out loud, in soothing gestures and sweet kisses. 

“I love you,” he mouths into Mark’s neck, tender and warm and just the slightest bit scruffy.

Mark squeezes his arm three times, and Ethan thinks that just maybe he gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, guys. did not think i'd ever get here. writing this fic has been... so many things. but i promised that i wouldn't post anything new without finishing this, and i have. this is the second to last chapter. i hope the wait was worth it, or at the very least, i hope i was able to give this story some justice, in the end. alright. i'll get more sappy in the next chapter notes, so look foward to that. leave comments and kudos if you liked :)


	18. and here's to endings, to every grin and tear along the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue, of sorts. The beginning of a new chapter, and the closing of those written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love u guys

Things only improve, after that. Before they can even wrap their heads around it, the year passes, Unus Annus ends, Mark comes out to his mom. Things change, and then they change a little more.

He never says it back, to be fair, but Ethan can’t seem to feel anything but ridiculously happy. And there’s bad days, of course. Days where Mark’s teasing jabs strike too deep, insecurities burrow too deep, but that’s alright too. Because even when the sun doesn’t chase those worries away, he’s not alone. He’s held, and comforted, or left alone if that’s what he needs, and Ethan does the same for Mark.

Today doesn’t seem to be one of those bad days. Mark seems… nervous, really, there’s a jitter to his step that hasn’t been there in a while, and he nearly burns their pancakes.

“Mark!” he shrieks. “The food!”  
“Ah, fuck,” he hears Mark yell from upstairs. He hears the rumbling as Mark bounds down the stairs, flying past Ethan and nearly into a wall in his efforts to reach the stove. He’s able to get it in time, and the pancakes are just golden brown, but it goes to show Mark’s distracted mind. He normally never leaves Sunday pancakes unattended.

Ethan wrinkles his nose, trying to decipher Mark’s behavior, but the smell of pancakes is too tempting. 

“So, what are we doing today?” Ethan asks after inhaling his food. “Good pancakes,” he adds, after stuffing in another bite.

Mark grins that very signature smirk. “I’m gonna take you somewhere, pretty boy,” he picks up their plates and pulls a bag from the table Ethan hadn’t noticed before.

“Take away,” he suggests, raising his eyebrows. Mark just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

They’re out the door in record time. There’s something to be said about the nervous energy that seems to have nestled in Mark- it gets them out the door quickly, and easily. Ethan spends half the ride chattering, to which Mark debates him back just as passionately- but his fingers, still drumming on the wheel, fiddling with the volume knob. Ethan decides to distract Mark in the best way he knows how- pestering him, over and over, asking where they might be going and when they’ll get there and  _ what about the dogs, Mark, the dogs,  _ he asks. Mark not only avoids every question but seems to loosen up after every one he asks, which Ethan counts as a win. 

He’s so distracted by annoying Mark that he misses the exit sign to San Francisco. It’s only thirty minutes later, when he looks out the windshield and spots the golden gate bridge, that he openly gasps, mouth gaping. Ethan grins and faces Mark, who’s lost at least a little tension in his shoulders as they maneuver into the parking lot, the one they were in so long ago, in such different circumstances.

“You didn’t, you dirty bastard,” he smiles. It’s sickeningly sweet, but he takes Mark’s hand and loose grin and follows him back up the trail to the top of the very same hill.

They sit down easily. It’s comfortable, familiar, as they talk about everything and nothing at once. 

Suddenly, Mark stops inhaling. His hands nervously fidget with the blanket they have laid out. 

“Ethan,” he starts. Ethan turns over the past week in his mind, tries to think of what he’s missing. Something heavy and wanting sits in the air, and it makes Ethan want to kiss the tension out of Mark’s shoulders.

“Hm?” he responds.

Mark breathes. “Last time we were here, things were a lot different. But I felt the same then as I do now.” He chuckles, and Ethan patiently waits for him to continue. “And that… that isn’t going to change.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow and he cocks his head.

Mark works his jaw. “I- I love you, Ethan. And I know you know that, but I just want to shout it from the rooftops. I love you so fucking much,” he says, giving a wobbly smile. Ethan’s mouth trembles without permission, and he takes Mark’s hands. He feels so full of love. “And I know it’s soon, but-” Ethan stares longingly into his boyfriend’s eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me, you fucking idiot. Be my husband,” his hands slip out of Ethan’s, pulling a black velvet box out of his pocket. 

When he opens it, something in Ethan’s brain comes back online, and he tackles Mark. He lets out an oof as the air knocks out of him, but quick thinking keeps the ring safely in Mark’s hand. 

“Yes, you fucking idiot. I’m going to kill you, I was so worried,” Ethan sighs. “I love you too,” he adds, softer.

“That’s no way to treat your future husband,” Mark grins. He slips the ring onto Ethan’s hand, and Ethan admires the simple design, a black band made of some sort of metal. It warms quickly to his hand. Ethan has a moment’s epiphany, and he clambers to a sitting position, pulling a box out of his small bag. The ring inside very nearly matches, instead of black metal, it’s near white, and engraved in it is three small dots. Mark laughs, tears flinging from his face as he slides the band onto the correct finger. 

Mark presses a soft kiss to Ethan’s hand, both of them completely oblivious to the view as they settle back down.

Wordlessly, Ethan nestles his head into the crook of Mark’s shoulder, and they stare out at the sight before them. Every color turns vibrant where it was once dull as the sun graces the horizon.

The sky seemed to stretch out forever, staring out at the Golden Gate Bridge. Glittering water shimmered from far below, and Mark slipped his hand into Ethan’s, content at the moment. 

Golden skylines. Endless roads. A road trip that began and ended with them, in love. 

So fucking in love.

Three weeks later, Ethan and Mark both wear their rings in a baking video. They both know it'll make waves- it'll make for gossip, leaps and bound about them and the nature of their partnership, but neither of them cares. Hell, they both said. 

Let them talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. wow. it's done. this fic will always have such a special place in my heart. as the first fanfic i've ever posted, i had no idea what to expect, and every day i just was astounded by the support. it meant so much, in a time when i felt honestly pretty shitty. alot of this fic was written as a sort of coping mechanism- i had jsut been through a rough breakup, and i needed an outlet, something to vent through. and for a long time, this was exactly that. the reason this took so damn long to finish, honestly, is because i did get over my ex. i honest to god didn't think i ever would, but here i am, over a year later, and i did. sure, i think my writing has suffered a bit because of that. but it's so fucking worth it. i want to thank each and every one of you for reading this- for the people who commented, months later, still wanting more. for the people that saw every chapter as soon as i posted it. thank you. i hope, each and every one of you, that whenever you have tough times, you can remember this. you will make it. you will survive. the hurt is not the end. and even though i've gone and given my heart (quite stupidly, i might add) to someone who is most definitely going to break it, i still believe that. we're all gonna survive. we're gonna make it.  
thank you.


End file.
